


Kiss me like you wanna be loved

by CarmenOnMonday



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angry Kissing, Deep Conversations, Drunk Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FIFA World Cup 2018, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Dates, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Romantic Fluff, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 04:30:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmenOnMonday/pseuds/CarmenOnMonday
Summary: working title: six kisses...or rather, five first kisses that could've been and one that was.





	1. In anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit where it's due - there is a fic about kisses already, written by amazing thomashelbys, titled [here i am leaving you clues](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16004030/chapters/37341851), and I absolutely adore it, would never attempt to copy it. My idea here is quite different, you'll see.
> 
> I'm still not a native, so you need to forgive me inevitable errors.  
> As much as I love referencing real-life events, it's pure fiction. Lies, lies, lies.  
> Dedicated to the angel who inspired me, as always. It's all your fault.

The hotel room looked exactly like any other they had spent countless nights in. Dele’s eyes travelled mindlessly all around it, stopping at the generic fabric of the curtains, sheets and carpet, at the desk with an electric kettle and a selection of teas they rarely used, at the big telly, turned on to show some stupid reality show because even if they insisted they never watch it home, it made a great entertainment while away.

Finally, at two identical beds standing side to side, one for him, as always the one next to the window, and one for Eric, closer to the entrance.

Dele lied restlessly on his stomach, tossing and turning, looking around to find details that would differentiate this particular room from all the others from the past, but there wasn’t anything significant here, not a single detail that would make it feel so uninviting, so uncomfortable, and yet, he couldn’t relax, couldn’t catch a break, some undefined unease constantly nagging at this brain.

“Don’t you think it’s too cold here?” He asked Eric, who was busy staring at his phone and pointedly ignoring the show.

“Nah,” he murmured, not raising his eyes. “But turn down the AC if you want.”

Dele glanced at the thermostat; it was on the other side of the room, next to Eric’s bed.

“You’re closer,” he complained, irrationally irritated at Eric’s lack of involvement.

Eric gave him a deadly stare that was enough to stop Dele’s from bitching. He got up slowly, straightened his back, and crossed the room, making a scene of having to do it himself, by which Eric tried to remain unbothered. Dele saw his little smirk though, and for some reason, it made his blood boil.

His jaw clenched without his control.

He turned to the board, and stabbed random buttons all over it. The machinery let out a miserable cacophony of sounds and displayed some weird symbols.

“Did the AC do something to you?” Eric laughed.

Instead of answering, Dele pushed at the biggest button, as it turned out with enough strength to turn off the entire thing.

“Bloody hell,” he snapped with frustration, ready to just hit the thing to make it start working properly.

Behind him, there was a rustle of bed sheets, an exaggerated sigh showing what a big freaking bother Dele was, and soon enough, a familiar figure appeared at his back. A strong hand caught Dele’s wrist and kept him from just hitting the stupid thing.

“Here, let me-“

Dele, irritated, snapped his hand out of Eric’s hold. “I’m good, thank you very much!”

He could feel Eric’s confusion in the air.“What?” His voice cracked at the last syllable.

“It’s not a rocket science and I’m a fully functional adult, I’ll make it work.”

“I didn’t say you wouldn’t, it’s just-“ Eric stopped abruptly. “Wait, what? What the hell? What’s going on?”

Dele, his back turned to Eric still, inhaled slowly to try to control his temper. With a dismissive shake of his head, he slipped from the place between wall and Eric and stomped away until he was far away from the freaking AC board to be sure he wouldn’t accidentally break it. He didn’t fancy a talking to from the boss.

With the combination of annoyance and disappointment buzzing just underneath his skin and slowly but surely overtaking his thoughts, he needed the space to pounce around and get rid of this nervous energy tearing at his seams.

Eric stared after him with surprise. His honest oblivion pushed Dele into opening his mouth, and before he could decide what exactly he’s going to say, the words slipped from him.

“I could move to Madrid, you know.” There was some poorly hidden accusation in there.

Only then, with the words ringing in the silence of the hotel room, did he realise what was it that he just couldn’t get over.

Eric, god bless his stupid bravery, _chuckled_.

“Yeah, sure. On holidays, like I said.” The glint of amusement in his eyes made Dele’s skin crawl. He was ready to scream, to shut him the hell up, to make him see that yes, Dele could. And Dele will, if just to show him.

“Is it just a joke for you?! My future?” The desperation colouring Dele’s voice felt like too much, and he could tell he was being overly dramatic, but his poor heart wouldn’t let him stop and reflect, instead demanding to be heard. “I could go. I would. If they ask, I _will_.”

The statement didn’t resonate as strongly as Dele would like it to, not with the slight tremble behind it, but inside, Dele fully believed in what he just said.

Isn’t what they’re doing meant to get him there? Wasn’t that the ultimate goal?

“Now?” Eric raised his brow. “You would go now? Are you crazy?”

Dele loathed the look Eric gave him, like he knew better what Dele’s future was supposed to bring, like he had the insight into world’s biggest secrets and knew, just like that, that Dele’s just a joke, just some poor excuse of a footballer who could never make it in the big football.

“Why the hell not? I’m good enough. I’m a bloody star, Dier, and if Real comes knocking, or rather _when_ they come knocking, they will have to pay hundreds of millions for me, they will crawl and beg and maybe I will finally relent and go, and I will win fucking everything there.”

“Yeah, and then you’ll wake up.” Eric concluded bitterly, slowly getting worked up, his voice raising with every following sentence. “Do you hear yourself? I- I hope that if it ever came down to it, that this is how it would go, that you would be cherished there, that you could live a dream and win whatever and feel at home while doing it, but life is not a film, and what we have here, at Spurs, is an exception, not the rule. Real is different. They don’t care about people there, okay? It’s the numbers that matter. You think they are like a family, like us? You think they’d have your back whatever happened? Ask Casillas.”

Eric was vicious in delivering his point, seemingly trying to force Dele to believe, but to him, Eric’s bitter logic sounded like a prophecy of doom, like some kind of crazy conspiracy theory.

And why would he know better than Dele?

His pride, once rubbed the wrong way, kept pushing at his limits, making him ready to fight, to defend.

“What is your problem?!” He screeched, his entire body burning with anger. ”I would have to keep up my game, yes, they wouldn’t want a disappointment there, I would just keep scoring-“

“No one is always on top of their game,” Eric stated, matter-of-factly. His forced calmness pushed Dele even further into rage, breath quickening, hands clenching into fists, face flaring up.

“You think I’m not good enough for Real?! Is that it?” Dele asked, and he hated it, he hated that he cared about the answer, that he was half scared to hear it.

“For fuck sake, no!” Eric threw his hands in the air, and approached Dele. “You’re better than them, you dumbass! You’re more than a fucking machine for scoring goals and smiling to the camera! That’s what I’m trying to say!”

Dele chuckled humourlessly.

“But Real is the dream. To everyone. That’s where you go when you want to be on top of the fucking game, I don’t get it, Dier, are you jealous, is that-“

Strong hands squeezing his shoulders stopped him in the middle of the sentence. Eric stared at him with a fire in his eyes that burned a hole in Dele’s chest and made him halt before he could fully form his accusations.

“It’s about you, not me! I would never let _jealousy_ -“ Eric spitted that word like it was the worst curse “-come between us. You are one exceptional player, okay, that’s what I’m saying, but you’re also twenty one. Haven’t you heard how rushed transfers end? There were so many talented players who wasted themselves because-“

“I’m different,” Dele cut in.

Eric looked at him like a madman.

“Exactly! You are different. It would be such a shame to see you rot on the bench! You are at the right place, in the right environment, where you are appreciated and you can grow, with the people who care about you. That’s different.” He breathed heavily as if he just played a full match.

Dele felt another wave of fury washing his body.

“So I’m only good at Spurs? Do you hear yourself?!” he asked. “Bet that if you could move, you would be out of these door before-”

“I just CARE about you! You’re such a child sometimes, I can’t believe you!” Dele struggled in his hold, ready to push him away, but Eric only squeezed him harder.

He was livid, his brow furrowed and his blue eyes stormy, fuming with rage at Dele, and Dele’d seen people in such state before, he knew what followed, so he struggled in his hold, ready to curl into himself to protect himself from the incoming blow, his own anger already making space for the nauseating fear he loathed. He couldn’t escape though, Eric hold on him too tight to allow him any space, and so instead of hiding, he pushed his chest out, ready to fight back, but-

For a second, Dele thought he had pushed at Eric’s buttons for too long, just like with the AC board, that Eric would snap at him and just take a swing, hit him straight in the face, maybe push him until he would fall to the ground, and then kick, and kick, and-

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!“ Eric stepped even closer to him, their noses almost touching, their gazes locked on each other, and the air escaping their mouths mixing together.

Dele’s breath hitched, his entire body tense with the adrenaline.

“Jerk! What’s your pro-“

The blow never came, but what followed felt like a slap to Dele’s face.

Eric shook his head in fury, looking done, desperate but helpless, and with one short movement, he leaned in until there was no more distance between then.

A pair of strong lips attacked Dele’s.

Dele froze, with his eyes still open, with a last breath let out in what sounded almost like a squeal and no intake.

Eric missed the centre of his lips, instead hitting the right corner, but quickly moved, with even more force. Their chins collided, but Dele didn’t even feel any pain, surprise clouding all his senses and pushing him into a haze. The warm, relentless lips moved harshly, with no finesse, only intent behind it, as if Eric wanted to force Dele to bend, to make space for him and his care, to let him leave a mark on him, to let him _own him_ , and Dele was too shocked to react, to either move against him or push him away, and so he just let that happen, helpless against the kiss that was getting only more and more insisting.

It was like Eric gathered all his anger and pushed it into the way he worked his mouth against Dele’s, hungry, bruising, only taking and taking, making Dele’s mind spin and then halt. The warmth felt foreign, the smell of Eric never as close to Dele as in that moment, too forceful, too overcoming for Dele to accept.

He kept nipping, trying to will Dele into responding, but his mind blanked and all he could think about was “this is Eric, my best friend, what, what, what-“, until-

Until Eric realised what he was doing.

One second he was biting at Dele’s unresponsive lip, the other, he jumped away and stumbled back, still looking at him like a mad man, but now with terror etched into his face.

Dele stared at him, with glazed eyes and slowly opening mouth, still frozen in place.

“Fuck.” Eric hid his face in hands.

Dele’s heart beat so hard it was the only thing he could focus on, not even the pain of his bruised lips able to push through the pounding of blood rushing through his veins.

He blinked slowly, the world shaking all around him, various memories flashing up in his mind and connecting into something, something not yet defined, something, for now, too foreign and terrifying.

Eric slowly sighed, lowering his hands, his eyes desperate, and tired, and painfully apologetic.

“I’m so sorry.” He clearly didn’t know what to say either. He looked like his mind didn’t catch up with his actions and only now he started to realise what exactly happened. He cleared his thoat. “I didn’t mean to. I would never- I’m sorry.“

Confusion filled every cell of Dele’s body, million questions bubbling in him and fighting to be asked, but Dele just stood there, speechless.

Eric diverted his stare and bit his red lower lip.

“It was so inappropriate, I’m so sorry, I’ll-“ he put his hand in his hair, nervously “-I’ll go.”

He turned away and rushed to the door, and maybe, in any other situation, Dele would shout after him, would ask him to stay and _explain_ , but he felt, he felt _violated_ , he felt as if the world escaped from underneath his feet because his best friend just kissed him, but it didn’t even feel like a heartfelt kiss, just like a way to push him into submission, and-

And it just felt _wrong_.

So maybe it was just a spur of the moment thing, maybe Eric just couldn’t find a way to express his concern and care, but it shook Dele’s core and left him defenceless.

It felt like a revolution with no warning signs, with the sacrifice of their friendship, but no winning prize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you need a little clue to what's going on here: those kisses could've been, but luckily, weren't. You see why "luckily". Sometimes, it's just not right yet.  
> Until. 
> 
> References:
> 
>   * [Eric's Insta live](https://alexoxladechamberlain.co.vu/post/156200669424/eric-dele-live-part-3-kywa-and-danny-take-over) (1:45) Danny: "Do you think Dele will go to Madrid?" Eric: "Only on holidays."
>   * [Eric's Insta live](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0NlYY2zK-o) (2:08) Dele: "Eric to Barca? On holiday again?"
> 

> 
> This is my summer project, outlined to the last chapter already, hopefully short and sweet and not as angsty and quickly finished. Stay tuned!
> 
> So... what do you think? :) Comments make my days, just sayin'  
> 


	2. Drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the concept a bit and decided not to include double endings after all, so I deleted one from the previous chapter. Take a look at it now, if you want to see updated version.  
>   
> The "real" endings might appear at some point.
> 
> It's very important to me that you know I listened to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DqM6UCdRd2Y) while writing. It adds a bit to the story, I think.

The world was swirling, in a colourful outrage of lights dancing on the tanned skin and glamorous holographic bikinis. The beat of music travelled through Dele’s body, pulse after pulse making him sway, flounder, only half to the rhythm, and then stumble from time to time. He had to squeeze the hand he kept on Ruby’s waist to keep his balance. He grinned at her, his hot girlfriend who was looking at him with exasperation, peered at her with eyes half closed and let the song lull him into pleasant haze. He downed last drops of his drink, let the cup fall down to the ground and leaned even closer to Ruby’s pouty mouth, staring at it intently, ready to close the gap-

But then, the next step proved to be a challenge, his feet tangled into each other, and he fell inelegantly straight into Ruby’s small body.

She squealed in surprise and struggled to support his lumbering weight. They swayed dangerously, and he giggled at the motion, ready to let the gravity take the best of him, when Ruby shouted something, and just seconds later, a pair of strong hands caught him under his arms and saved them both from falling.

There was some conversation going on next to him, but he couldn’t distinguish any words, still laughing hysterically at the thought of the scene they would make; Dele and Ruby, plastered to the ground, in the middle of the dance floor in the beach club in Mykonos.

For some reason, Ruby didn’t look as happy at the prospect as Dele.

Before he managed to catch a deep breath, he was already led through the crowd, relentless hands guiding him and pushing him to take the steps he didn’t really feel like taking.

He struggled a bit, but was stopped by a voice in his ear.

“We’re going out. Move, move.”

Dele turned to take a look at the person next to him; Eric’s eyes glinted in the darkness of the club, reflecting the rainbow lights decorating the club. Dele smiled involuntarily.

Eric opened his mouth and said something more, but it got drowned in the noise.

“What?!” Dele answered, barely hearing his own words.

Eric scrunched his nose and pushed him a few steps more, until they fell out of the restricted club area, straight into beach sand.

Dele couldn’t really keep up with the passage of time and distance; he blinked, and he was already at the seaside, with cold wind messing up his hair and making him squint his eyes, even though, just a heartbeat ago, he was still on the dance floor.

“Maagic,” he commented, and the sound of his own voice sounded so foreign in the sudden almost-silence that he looked down at his hands to make sure he was still in his own body.

Only when he caught a glace of his right hand did he realise he was holding someone else’s hand in his own. He’s gaze travelled from the big hand to the connected to it arm and up, until it fell on the amused scrunched face of his best friend.

“Oh, hi!” Dele’s greeted him happily. For some reason, he thought he was holding Ruby’s hand in the club, and yet, here he was, with Eric, enjoying the night out on the beach.

“You’re a bloody lightweight,” Eric commented fondly.

Dele frowned. “Shut up,” he muttered offended and crossed his arms. At least he tried, until he realised it would mean he would have to let go of the warm hand, and the wind was too chill to resign on this additional source of warmth.

He would’ve protested about being called drunk if it hadn’t been a lost case. No point in arguing when Dele could tell his eyes were a bit glazy and his mouth wasn’t fully cooperative. Maybe he _was_ a tiny bit drunk.

“...don’t tell Ruby.” Somehow, the thought of her seeing him tipsy like this made him uneasy.

“I think she’s well aware, mate,” Eric laughed. “Just two drinks were enough for you?”

Eric’s big head filled Dele’s whole vision. He was clearly having the time of his life, making fun of Dele, somehow barely bothered by the fruity cocktails they all ordered.

Dele pouted.

“So what? I paid, like, five pounds for the drinks, and it was enough, and you will have to pay like three times as much, so who’s looking stupid now, huh?” Dele babbled, his logic clear as the water in the sea just meters away from them.

Eric snorted. He squeezed Dele’s hand and then let go of it to lie down on the sand, cross his hands under his head and stare up, at the stars.

“You know we’re rich footballers who can afford a lot more than a few drinks, right?” Dele hated how reasonable Eric sounded.

“But that’s because I’m reso- resau-“ Dele growled impatiently. “That’s because I saved the money on the booze!”

“Suuure.”

Dele threw a glance at Eric’s calm face, and he looked so comfortable lying down on the warm sand, that Dele instantly got jealous; he followed Eric’s example and dropped to the ground as well, his limbs relaxing without much coordination. He managed to be half graceful, only hit Eric’s shoulder with his head; Dele couldn’t even feel the pain, so Eric probably couldn’t either, even if he was overly dramatic with his whine.

Dele closed his eyes and felt the world spin, his body balancing as if he was drifting on the waves he could hear nearby. It was a funny feeling, unsettling one, but at least he was sharing it with Eric, who would surely caught him if he started to drown.

“You okay?” Eric asked, cutting through the distant music playing in the background.

“Are you?” Dele passed the buck, proud when he heard Eric sigh in answer.

“I’m perfect, but I’m also already sober, not like some of us,” he muttered, and Dele remembered about the girls, still in the club, on their own for now.

“Maria had too much?” Dele asked, his words slurring.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m out here with you,” Eric deadpanned.

“You’re a shitty boyfriend, Dier,” Dele commented, only half-heartedly because he enjoyed having Eric here, he enjoyed being chosen over his perfect girlfriend. Maybe not that perfect if she was drunk, like Eric said.

Dele was drunk as well. They had something in common with Maria, huh.

He suddenly felt sick, one of the spins of the world a bit too strong for his liking, so he got up and opened his eyes. The sight of the sea in the night caught his breath in his throat.

“Woah,” he let out.

“Hmmm?” Eric asked without moving.

“Beautiful,” Dele answered, his gaze falling on the lines of Eric’s face basked in the moonlight.

“Who knew you could appreciate the beauty of nature,” Eric chuckled. “It’s like you’re a completely different person now.”

“Naaaah. I’m Dele.” There was something lingering on the back of his head he wanted to discuss with Eric, but his thoughts were tangled and heavy. He tried anyway. “Hey, you know the way the most important people have only one name? Like, God? Or...Drake?”

Eric hummed.

“Can I be like Drake?” Dele wondered out loud.

“You want to start a music career now? I don’t think you’d be such a star in that industry, Delboy, you should probably stick to football.”

Eric didn’t understand. Dele just sighed, the struggle to make his mouth cooperate taking too much of him.

“Nevermind,” he mumbled and shook his head.

There was a sudden movement next to him, one that made his swallow again to make sure he had his stomach in check. Then a hand fell on his shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Eric asked, and Dele turned to him, focusing on his face, which was, suddenly, overwhelmingly, right next to his own.

Before, in the corridor leading from the dance floor to toilets, Dele’d seen Eric’s face as close to Maria’s, closer even, and he couldn’t stop staring at it, at how well they were matched, blond hair on two different heads, and the English skin tanned by Portuguese sun, same on two bodies, when Dele’s skin wouldn’t accept any proof of Portuguese sun ever shining on it. He couldn’t stop staring, until Ruby came out of the toilet and took him back to the centre of commotion; Ruby, his own perfect match, hot body and beautiful face with cute pout enhanced by expensive lipstick, one tasting almost like strawberries, only half artificial, so he tasted that, but-

“I wanna-“ Dele started, still entranced by Eric’s sharp, concerned gaze, and he didn’t know where this sentence was going to end; did he want to be like Drake, or God, or... Or like Maria?

And he didn’t know which of these options scared him most. The world swayed again, and he reached out, to hold on to Eric’s steady form.

He shuddered, only partly because of the breeze.

“Mhm? What do you want?” Eric asked, deadly serious, ready to help him to find it.

To be the most important person, he wanted to say. So I can be like Drake, or like God.

Dele’s gaze slipped to Eric’s chapped lips, bare of any lipstick at all, and his heartbeat matched the muffled beat of the music in the distance, the wave of lust flushing through his slumbered body.

The thought crossed his brain like a flash of a photo taken of them at their best, or at their worst:

_...so I can be like Maria._

His body lurched before his mind managed to catch up with it, and once again, he lost the sense of time passing, because he blinked once, and he was in the different world, the one in which his lips were allowed to touch Eric’s. The one in which he could be whoever he wanted to be.

The time stopped and he stopped swaying, instead taking some of Eric’s steadiness. He pressed his mouth to Eric’s, unmoving at first, shocked at where he found himself, but then he jumped into it fully, trying to recreate what he saw, and the world lurched and danced again, swirled in the colourful lights.

He tried to slot into Eric perfectly, not like a missing puzzle, but like the counterpart of his; he tried to force his slender lips to enliven the big, shy ones. He was sloppy in his movements and he could tell, but he wanted to cover it with enthusiasm, knowing full well he can put to shame any Portuguese girl with the fire that fuelled his own bravado.

It was just a few flashes, their kiss, his mind barely registering it and confusing the sequence order, and he felt even more drunk then, truly wasted, his mind swirling at the feel, the smell, the taste. Was it him who deepened the kiss, or was it Eric? Who whined first? Who let out a breath, who hugged the other one closer, who bit at the other, who-

Who moved away?

The confusion clouded Dele’s mind when one more blink later, he opened his eyes and saw Eric in a safe distance from himself, and at first he thought he saw him concerned, scared maybe, shocked, but then, he was laughing so hard he could barely breathe, so maybe Dele just imagined it.

“So you’re THIS drunk?” Eric asked through his laughter.

Dele felt the bile raise in his stomach.

“Two drinks and you confuse me with your girlfriend? Oh, Del...” he wiped away a tear that escaped his eyes.

Then, just one blink again, and Dele was on his knees, heaving painfully, his stomach lurching, begging for a release. He spilled his guts on the sand, hating how it made his eyes wet, but finding it cleansing to get rid of the sick feeling making him do things he wouldn’t normally consider.

Eric was instantly at his back, sobered up from the hysterical laughter.

“Fuck, Del. Shhhh,” he tried to comfort him, his hand on Dele’s back feeling more like cheating than anything else they before they did up to that moment. “You’re okay. I promise. It’s okay. Nothing happened...”

He kept repeating that, _nothing happened, Del_ , and his words mixed with Dele’s convulsions, and then he added something about the girls waiting for them, and how they wouldn’t ever hear about something as stupid, as meaningless, and how it was all just alcohol’s fault, and how they could trust each other, and that Ruby would take care of him, and that he would be okay.

When Dele woke up on the next day, the last thing he could remember from their night out was dancing around the dance floor happily, no recollection of leaving the club, no recollection of getting back to the hotel.

Eric smiled at him fondly when he complained about his head hurting, and told him he didn’t do anything stupid, _nothing happened, Del_ , and that was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you're following the story, because my motivation is as stable as drunk Dele, and I would love to hear from you.


	3. Rebound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not real at all, no harm intended.
> 
> [a song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ng5-VUDcjJ8%22)

Maria stood opposite from him, leaned back on the kitchen isle. In her flowery dress and trainers she looked like someone out of different world pasted harshly into London surroundings.

 _She hasn’t even had a chance to fully fit into my life here_ , Eric thought hysterically, _and she is already escaping._

Her face was as serious as Eric ever saw it, a look that he thought didn’t fit her at all, and he wondered if that’s how she looked when she worked, if that’s the Maria the rest of the world saw, so different from the one he got to see on her free days and holidays. Maybe that was the Maria she was now fully turning into; a classy business women, no longer a girl with a sunny smile who stole his teenage heart.

“Are you sure?” Eric asked, his voice chocked. He shut his mouth quickly, fighting the overcoming pressure in his throat.

Maybe it was a shitty thing to do, to even ask when she just lied the facts in front of him, but there was a desperate part of his heart hoping that maybe she just wanted him to fight for her. Maybe there was still some place for him to argue, for them both to compromise.

“I am,” she answered gently, but surely. Her confidence made her look even more breathtaking. Even then. “I thought about it for a long time. I went through every scenario in my head, I tried to find another solution, but there’s really nothing else to do. I want the job, Eric. It’s the dream!” She said as if it was world’s biggest disaster, and Eric felt the unfairness of the situation; it was outrageous that instead of celebrating, instead of being happy for her dreams coming true, there they were, both barely holding together. Still, even through the despair choking him, he felt flash a of pride. Of course she got her dream job. His girl.

A wave of nausea hit him when he realised he wouldn’t have the right to call her that for much longer.

She shuddered, maybe from the chill, and she crossed her arms around herself; without thinking, he lifted her his black hoodie from where it lied next to him on the couch and threw it to her. Just like he’d done a million times before. She caught it, glanced at him, as overcome with emotion as him, and stared at piece of clothing in her hands.

“And you want your job, here,” she continued, while playing with the material. “I know we’ve managed long distance for so long, but I hoped that it was just temporary. It only made sense as a way to survive until- until at some point, our roads would lead it us to the same place. I hoped we would find a point in the future to look forward to, but instead, we only grow more and more apart... My contract is for two years, but who knows what will happen next or where you will be by then.”

She sighed, seemed like it pained her, but finally decided to wear the hoodie over her dress. Like a thousand times in the past, she put it on through her head, and Eric felt his breath catching in his throat.

His pounding heart wouldn’t allow him to take his eyes away from her. Maybe it was the last time he would see his girl in his clothes.

Her answer was clearly thought through before, and what made Eric’s stomach tie into knots was the fact that he couldn’t even argue with her logic. It was all true, what she said, he just didn’t want to accept it, not with the way she still took his breath away, even while she stood in his London kitchen, the embodiment of the sun lightning up his gloomy London house, and broke his heart.

He bit his lip, unable to come up with words to make her stop. His whole body had tensed as soon as she said they needed to talk and it never relaxed; he sat on the verge of couch, staring at her with eyes wide open.

“But I- I love you,” he whispered, hoping it would change something.

It didn’t.

She raised her gaze at that and started at the ceiling. She didn’t cry, and for that, Eric was grateful; there was no way he could keep his distance if she cried, but touching her now wouldn’t feel right, not anymore. She felt more distant than ever; even countries away, she was still his. Now, she was escaping his hold, just like that.

A memory flashed through his mind; her, laughing cheerfully when he lifted her up from the ground and span around, him leaning in to kiss her passionately, a click of camera in the background, how natural it felt, how invincible they both felt, forever unspoken yet, but already somewhere in the back of his mind.

She opened her mouth again, but what came out of it wasn’t the confession Eric expected.

“We kept holding to it for too long, Eric. It’s no way to live, you had to feel it too.”

It brought him back to reality, to gloomy and cold house, to the awkwardness filling the air. He hadn’t felt it, no.

When she’d announced that she was coming, he’d only expected she would spend a week with him, as always when she could afford a little break from her studies, and not tell him she was moving across the globe and that they couldn’t be together anymore.

Eric, always divided into halves, half of him still in Portugal, where he kept coming back to her as just Eric, the other half of him in England, where he was a footballer, a star and a product; Eric didn’t feel that at all. She was his safe haven, his escape, his home, his youth. They spent two years in a long distance relationship, they mastered it to the point when diving his time between her and England never felt wrong, saying goodbye sad but not heartbreaking; saying hello always full of passion; she had never let it show it wasn’t working for her anymore.

“Why haven’t you said anything before? I would’ve-“ he stopped there, unsure where he was going with this. He would do something, anything, to keep her.

“Would you’ve moved back to Lisbon? Would you’ve made me move in with you?” She cut in, a voice of reason as always.

Eric sagged.

“So I’m not even allowed to fight for you? You just made a decision, and that’s it, a done deal, I don’t have anything to say about it?”

She played nervously with the long sleeves of his hoodie and looked at him with pleading eyes.

A selfish part of him, in a desperate attempt at keeping her for himself, wanted to beg; to offer her everything he had: the money he earned, the lifestyle they could lead even if he was never a fan of it, the connections he could use to find her even better job than she could have in Australia, but... But the thing about Maria, the reason why he fell so hard for her, was that she couldn’t care less about it. He chose the one girl he couldn’t convince to stay.

“I’m so sorry. I thought... But it’s my future, Eric. Please, don’t make it harder than it already is.”

She spoke in a velvet soft voice, but it halted at the end, and it was clear then that he wasn’t the only one affected by this change.

He looked at her, and she looked at him, empty of anything else they could say.

He couldn’t imagine saying a final goodbye to her; to the lover he adored, to the friend he cherished. They worked so perfectly well together, it was never awkward, even after a longer break of no meetings... and yet. And yet, the silence felt too heavy now, the look they exchanged tired and overwhelming.

She didn’t fit into his life here, he knew, this English routine would tame her just like his black hoodie hid the colourful dress she was wearing, and she could have so much more than this, she deserved so much more, it just- It just felt too unexpected, too final. Eric couldn’t bear it.

He stood up abruptly.

“I need to go,” he stated. “You stay, I just- I can’t be here now, I’ll take the dogs out. I’ll be back.”

He turned before she could see that emotions overtook him after all. He walked out, on the way collecting leashes and dogs, and headed out.

It’s been a while since Eric passed the place where he normally would turn back and head in the direction of his house, but the thought of coming back hasn’t even crossed his mind.

He neither felt the distance in his feet nor he noticed changes in the scenery, too indifferent to any of it. After going through every possible sentence he could say to make Maria change her mind, every impossible scenario in which they wouldn’t be forced apart – could he move to Australian league? – after reminding himself of all their best moments and how she made him feel and how unfair it was that they couldn’t stay together, after realising it was final and trying to pretend there was anything to be done was futile, he just... He just walked, straight ahead, walked and walked, until sun gave way to the starry sky, and the chilly wind on his bare arms started to make him shiver. Even then, he walked, not ready to face the reality in which there was nothing he could do, not ready to come back to her and admit she was right. Not ready to say goodbye.

And then, at some point, his legs started to protest. He was a professional athlete, he reasoned, he could push through it, his physical shape should at least allow him to walk if he felt like walking, but then, even Clay and Cisco started to whine, nervous about being so far away in the unknown – Eric could relate, the unknown, the unknown ahead was the worst – and at some point, his feet just gave up under him, and he had to lean on the tree to stay upright.

Only then did he realise there was no way he could come back home on his own.

There was no way he could ask Maria to drive his car and come get him either, and taxis surely wouldn’t come as far into the forest – not when he had no idea how to describe where he is.

He let out a long, frustrated cry, his throat burning at the sensation, finally letting his emotions free.

It felt surprisingly good, so he repeated that, and then with the last of his strength, he kicked the tree until his toes started to hurt.

The dogs stared at him like he was a crazy person.

After this being done, with a heavy heart he took his phone out. He stared at “Daisy” listed in his contacts, but winced at the thought of being forced to talk about his feelings, and then, of course, Daisy was Maria’s best friend, so Eric wouldn’t be surprised if they were already on the phone, discussing the whole thing. Daisy was his sister, but at the moment, he couldn’t be sure whose side would she choose to be on. Were there even sides to choose from? They didn’t fight at all. They never fought, never, and should that be a foundation of a long-term relationship possibly ending in a ceremony in Portugal and a few pair of small feet running on a wooden floor? Wasn’t that how it was supposed to end?

He closed his eyes for a second, keeping his emotions in check.

He scrolled a bit down and stopped at “Dele”. He chose the number and prayed he would answer.

“Oi, Eric, what’s up?” Dele’s voice ringed from the speaker. “Ah, wait a second, just need to-“

In the distance, sounds of shooting could be heard.

“Yeah, okay, I’m back. What’s up?”

Eric cleared his throat. “...could you come and get me?”

“There you are!” Dele shouted excitedly, and Eric was unnerved by such a warm welcome until he noticed Dele didn’t address it to him; he was already on his knees, greeting Clay and Cisco, who attacked him as soon as he opened his car’s door.

The dogs looked like they saw their saviour.

Eric felt a pang of guilt at the thought of dragging them so far away from home he couldn’t even take them back. Shitty boyfriend, shitty dog father; this day proved him times and times again of what a failure he was.

“And you!” Dele says after finally raising his gaze from the dogs. “So you do live in the forest, big guy, huh? As I thought. Yeti.”

Some of Eric’s tension vanished at that greeting. Dele’s typical mockery, that he could deal with.

“No, but seriously. What’s a boy like you doing in the place like this? This is giving me some horror vibes,” Dele chattered unbothered by Eric’s silence. “Okay, boys, here’s the deal. You’re not allowed to make a mess in my car. And yes, Eric, I’m talking to you too,” Dele said with a stern voice. “Come on, get in, this train is leaving soon.”

He opened the back door and disappeared there for a second, then resurfaced, visibly pleased with himself.

“Come on, Clay. Cisco, get in, get in. You can rest now, I’ll take over now. Come on,” he coddled. Once they were inside, Dele closed the door behind them and gave Eric measured look.

“Are you coming in?”

Eric shrugged. He slowly walked to the car and dropped on the familiar seat next to Dele.

His body automatically assumed his typical position in this seat, and without even trying, he relaxed. Like a doll with cut off strings, he melted into the leather seat, his eyes closing at the sensation.

Something was dropped on his lap.

“You hold on to it, couldn’t let boys trash it in the backseat,” Dele explained.

Eric peered at the object in his lap. It was a blanket, one Eric recognized from Dele’s living room. Eric frowned, but let it stay in his lap.

As Dele slowly started the car, Eric turned to the left and stared out of the window.

“So. Where to? Any wishes?” Dele asked conversationally. “Probably as far away as possible from the monsters hiding in the darkness. You know what this place reminds me of? Forbidden forest, in Harry Potter and stuff. That shit was scary.”

Eric hummed noncommittally. _As far away as possible_ sounded about right.

“No, but for real. Where’s your car?”

“Home,” Eric said, his voice cracking after not being used in a while. He didn’t turn to see Dele’s reaction.

Dele stayed quiet for a second. “Home it is?”

Eric bit his lower lip.

“...yours?”

“Okaaay?” Dele sounded confused, but not against the idea, and for that Eric was profusely grateful. He started playing with the blanket in his lap, and slowly, slowly stretched it enough to be able to cover himself with it. Only when it covered his bare arms did he realise how cold was he before. A thought about his hoodie crossed his mind, how normally he would take it with himself on walks, but now, Maria was wearing it- Maria, his Maria who is no longer his. A pang of pain hit his heart. What if-

“Can you order dog food delivery, though?” Dele wondered out loud and cut through Eric’s thoughts, honestly puzzled.

Eric couldn’t help the snort that escaped him.

“What? I don’t have anything for them to eat! It’s a real problem.”

“They can have a cheat day. They’ll eat whatever you’ve got and will be very happy about it.”

“Are we celebrating?” Dele asked but didn’t wait for the answer. “The fact that you survived out here in the forest, probably. Shit, I hope we’re not in this part of a horror when the scary music starts to play but the characters don’t know and just keep going around their business, and then BAM, something gets them. Cisco and Clay are too young to die this way.” He squinted his eyes. “Hell, I can’t see a thing in this darkness. How did you get here, again?”

“We walked.”

“You walked. From home?” Dele asked for confirmation.

Eric hummed.

“Eric.” It was the first time this evening Dele spoken in a serious voice. “Is everything...?”

“Yeah.” Eric cleared his throat. “Perfect. Yeah. Just lost a track of time. Thought we turned back at some point and were headed home, but I must have messed up directions. Everything’s peachy.”

“Peachy,” Dele repeated, not convinced, and absentmindedly reached out to turn on the heating. Eric noticed, with surprise, that he was trembling slightly; it didn’t make sense, considering he was finally covered by the blanked and protected from the wind. “You looking like you’ve seen a ghost doesn’t help to calm me, you know. Hey, have you seen this one film with-“

He chattered away, and Eric listened half-heartedly, still observing the view behind the window – unchanging, just trees and trees lightened up only by the car’s reflector, and Eric wondered how he managed to walk as far and only then realise he was lost.

“Okay, did you hear the joke Jan told me the other day?” Dele asked, minutes later, still attempting to fill the silence, using all his tricks to keep the one-side conversation up.”It’s sick. So there’s this-“

“Maria broke up with me.” Eric cut in.

The car stopped with a halt.

Eric’s mind screamed at him. _Why? Why would you say that? Why would you admit to Dele that there’s something wrong, why, why-_

“Oh fuck,” Dele commented. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

 _Why would you ask for pity?_ Dele’s silliness, that was much better cure, and yet, here Eric was, spilling what actually bothered him and uncovering far too much. He couldn’t make himself lift his gaze, too embarrassed at his outburst and too scared of seeing pity in Dele’s eyes.

“Okay, I can do this, here we go.” Dele stated, his voice slightly shaky. “First, she wasn’t worth you, okay? You’ll be much better without her. Second, she doesn’t know what she’s losing. Cisco and Clay? She’ll never get such a package deal. Three, you can have any bird you want. You wanna go to the club? We can go now, right now, I’ll be your wingman, that’s a sure win, you’ll see. Or! Or we can go to mine and do a makeover. Whatcha thinking? We can cut your hair, I bet you would look good, she would-“

Eric shook his head with exasperation. None of Dele’s offers interested him, they all sounded absurd, but a small laugh that started building in Eric’s chest escaped him. “You have no idea how to act, have you? Your chick flick obsession is showing.”

Dele’s eyes widened comically. “Excuse me!“

“She’s right to leave.” Eric cut in again, in a whisper contrasting with Dele’s offended yell. The shadow of amusement quickly escaped his mind and he was once again facing the reality. Even the warmth of the car and the big black nothingness surrounding it couldn’t help Eric to feel better. “She got a job in Australia.”

It still sounded absurd, even after Eric mulled over the idea of her leaving – actually leaving and not coming back again – over and over.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Eric nodded, and tried to chuckle, but it sounded awkwardly, and soon he choked on the sound, only a pained whine escaping his mouth.

In the backseat, Cisco let out a similar sound.

Dele hastily unfastened his seatbelt and leaned in through a gear stick to awkwardly embrace Eric. He tried to protest but didn’t even have that much fight left in him. Soon, he let himself to be dragged into this forceful hug.

“You’re right, I have no idea what to do, shit, this is terrible, mate. I mean, no- no, you’ll be okay, you’ll be, it’s just a girl, yeah?”

Not just a girl. The girl he spent past few years with. The only girl who truly got him.

Eric didn’t know what kind of demon possessed him that made him open his mouth when he should’ve just kept it closed, but he was just done with this whole situation, and he just didn’t care anymore, didn’t give a damn about being too pathetic.

“I love her. I love her, and she’s leaving, Del,” he whizzed out.

The silence stretched while Dele tightened his grip around Eric’s arms, and Eric closed his eyes, hoping the ground would open and just take him; his emotions too much for him to handle, making him vomit them all over not to let them poison him to death.

“Listen to me,” Dele finally said, with surprising confidence. “Listen. It’s not the end of the world, okay? It’s not. The world has this stupid tendency not to end, even if you wish it would.” Dele chuckled bitterly. ”So you’ll survive. You’ll be okay.” He backed a little to look Eric into his eyes, and his determination made his eyes gleam in the darkness. “You will. I don’t not much about anything, but I know this. Even if you feel like shit now, you’ll survive and be okay. You’re so much more, Eric. You deserve all the happiness, and-“

Dele took a long breath in and calmed his voice.

“-and you’ll find it. Good things happen to good people, okay? You’re so-“

He didn’t finish.

Dele looked so sincere, so much more mature than normally, so considerate and sure of his words when just minutes ago he was joking and every silly thing he said somehow managed to make Eric feel this tiny bit better, and he looked at Eric like he was important, more important than any job. Dele seemed like a natural complement to their surroundings, his silhouette so familiar, so London-like when he wore a hoodie, similar to Eric’s, which didn’t tame him at all and, and Eric wanted to believe him, wanted him to cast a spell on his life and make it better just like that; he wanted to take his confidence and care and let it fill the void he carried in his heart and – and Dele held Eric, held him tightly and wouldn’t let go, so Eric didn’t have to worry about him escaping his hold – and he was warm, and close, and so so loving, so deliciously present, willing to be there and comfort Eric and give him whatever Eric needed – and maybe he just needed closeness, touch, not to feel so awfully alone and– and–

And Eric didn’t let him finish.

Once again, he snapped, he cut right in, but this time, not with words. His brain shortcut and he wasn’t sure what he was even doing, until his lips were on Dele’s, needy, desperate, asking him to bring him relief, and one of his hands came up from underneath the blanket and sneaked onto Dele’s neck.

A strong desire to be close, to be loved, steered him as he nipped at Dele’s unresponsive lips and he begged – in his head, he begged for some response, begged for the right to keep his warm lips so close to his own, _please, please, you stay, stay, don’t go, please don’t go, I can’t, please_ – and he thought he was only begging in his mind, but then he heard it, the words escaping his mind, the words bruising Dele’s lips which were just a breath away, and he remained still, but Eric could feel the distance building even though he begged, begged: “Don’t, please, don’t.”

Dele finally moved, shook his head repetitively, and Eric felt his nose touching his cheeks.

“It’s not me you want,” he stated, his voice sure if a bit less composed than before, trembling, but convinced. “You’ll regret this, Eric, you will.”

Maybe there was some reason in it, but Eric couldn’t see it at the moment.

“Don’t go,” he begged again, irrationally.

“You’re not in your right mind now. I won’t, okay? I won’t, but- I’m not Maria. I won’t replace Maria for you. She’s going, but it’s going to be okay. I swear.”

Eric shook his head as well, overcome by some indescribable emotion.

“I don’t- I don’t know how to deal. Fuck!” He let out, and Dele jumped, startled. “Sorry.” Eric slowly backed, creating some distance between them, backing away from the line he crossed. He leaned back into his seat, cold and empty again, struggling to take in even one bigger breath in. He rubbed his eyes and face with both his hands, embarrassed. “I’m a dick. Sorry.”

“’s okay.” Dele’s hand found its way into Eric hair. He scratched his head. “I’m not mad.”

Eric believed him, he didn’t seem mad; he did seem resigned though, and it only made Eric feel even more sick.

“Sorry,” he repeated again, avoiding his eyes, deeply ashamed. He wasn’t in his right mind, that much was clear. He just hoped he wouldn’t lose two friends today.

Dele shook his head.

“She came here to break up with you?” He asked. “Is she still in your house?”

Eric swallowed and turned away from Dele, again.

“She has a flight tomorrow in the morning.”

Dele turned on the ignition. He sighed and the car slowly started to move again.

“I’ll drive you home, okay? Go home, Eric. She’s still there, this evening only. You two probably need to talk. Don’t lose your chance.”

“Yeah, what am I supposed to say? I tried to convince her not to- not to break up, couldn’t convince her not to go – but she’s set. She’s leaving me.” Eric pinched his tired eyes and bundled himself further under the blanket.

“She’s your friend, right? That’s what you used to say. Your best friend. You should at least try to say goodbye.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Well, you gotta. I’ll make you go, whether you want to or not.” When he spoke like that, sincerely and with so much conviction, Eric didn’t have it in himself to fight it.

"You can come to mine tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback much appreciated (meaning: I will love you forever. Please.)  
> The next one should be less angsty! More playful! Pinky promise. :)  
> 


	4. Play pretend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Video reference: [Deledier's night out](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-fVrawC3gKo)

Taunting Eric has proved to be too easy. Boredom got the best out of Dele; a prospect of another day filled with exactly the same activities, spent with exactly the same faces, made him want to open the door of Eric’s car and jump right off it in search of something more stimulating. And so he did what he normally did when he was bored – he decided to be Eric Dier’s pain in the ass.

The perfect solution was the one already tested in the past: daring Eric to have a private competition with Dele, just between them two, in a game of Uno scheduled for later.

It took two carefully crafted sentences to play with Eric’s ego; Dele knew exactly the right words to challenge him in a way he just couldn’t resist.

Later, while all the others played the game with no prize – unaware of any background competition going, just for entertainment between morning and afternoon session of training – Eric and Dele played their own personal match with much bigger stake.

A few rounds of dramatics later, Dele raised his hands in the air and celebrated his win with a little dance. He hooped and jumped and then threw himself to the ground, hands raised high into the air.

Only then other lads seemed to take notice that there was something going on. Hugo shook his head with disbelief and ambled away, not interested in their childish bets, while the Argentinians seemed delighted with the scene happening in front of their eyes.

Dele pushed it a bit, just to see even more distress on Eric’s face. There was something disarming about the way his forehead went all wrinkly and his lips formed a tight line despite his best efforts to hide that losing bothers him at all. 

“Speechless?” he asked while Eric still didn’t open his mouth.

Eric rolled his eyes and dropped his cards on the table. “You cheated.”

“Yeah, in UNO. I hid the cards up my sleeve, huh? Just admit it, you’re worse than me at literally any game,” Dele half-sang.

Eric scrunched his nose. “You’re the one talking. Consider this: tennis. Golf,” he listed.

“Okay, you’re just terrible at games for normal people, no upper class bullshit.”

Harry Kane snorted in the background.

“Basketball,” Eric added with intent.

Dele tutted. “One time luck. I’m the king. Right, boys?”

“Yeah, Delstroyer!” Harry Winks cheered him on, his arm sneaking around Dele’s shoulders. “What’s your punishment now, Eric?”

“Ask the one who will announce the sentence,” he murmured, a hand awkwardly laid on his neck, still not amused.

Dele grinned. “Three wishes,” he said with flourish, “I got three wishes, Eric here will be my little gold fish. I don’t know, I gotta think it over, can’t let him go too easily.”

Winksy jumped suddenly.

“Just ask for more wishes! I always tell people this is the way to go. You first say you want infinite number of wishes, and then you can go off,” he advised with unparalleled enthusiasm.

“This is not how it works. I don’t know if you had a bet officiant, but for a small price, I can be one and tell you right now that this is against rules,” Kane commented.

Eric murmured something which sounded vaguely like “thank you”.

But Dele didn’t need anyone to tell him what’s right and wrong, he already had a plan. “Nah, three are enough if used wisely.”

Eric groaned, one of his fingers raised into the air, in a “stop right there” gesture. “You better think hard, this is your one and only opportunity. We all know this was a sheer luck.”

“So what it’s going to be, Del?” Winksy clearly couldn’t wait to hear all about it.

“That’s going to stay between us two,” Dele decided.

“Oooooh, kinky!” Trippier shouted from where he sat by his locker.

Not kinky, no. But Dele had a pretty good idea of how he would use his wishes.

On the way back home, right before he jumped off Eric’s car, he pulled off a full performance; he faked deep consideration, scratched his beard, made a few “hmm” noises, and then announced the sentence:

“We’re going out one night, wherever I want, and you’re going to be my chauffeur for the night. With door opening and all. That’s my first wish.”

Eric reacted exactly the way Dele expected. “You’re kidding. The first? That’s pretty extensive for one wish. No way.”

“Two, then. Those are two out of my three wishes.” Dele amended, a rush of satisfaction already buzzing in his veins.

Eric made an unimpressed face but slowly nodded. “That’s a terrible wish, you know it, right? But whatever you want. Deal.”

“Deal!” Dele exclaimed. “See you, Diet!” He shouted and run away before Eric could change his mind.

Dele checked their calendars and found the one and only evening in January they both had free. He made sure to not only tell Eric that’s the night they would spend together, but to also add an appointment in his Google calendar for everyone else to know Eric couldn’t frequent some kind of gallery opening or other weird family gathering on that day. No photo shoots or advertising campaigns, no; Eric Dier was busy. Taken.

Dele expected him to be grumpy about their night out; he expected exasperated looks during trainings and long complaining to whoever would listen, but Eric stayed quiet, and so no one from the team even knew what was his sentence.

And then it was time.

Eric arrived in front of Dele’s house in his typical manner, three minutes early, and if Dele felt worried before (he didn’t, he didn’t), as soon as he walked out and saw the same sight that greeted him every other day, any trace of nerves disappeared, leaving him in pleasant anticipation.

It’d be an evening like any other, if not for Eric greeting him by playfully bowing and opening the passenger door. He didn’t wear his typical plain sweatshirt and instead had some new one on, and Dele would ask if he dressed up for him, but instead decided to play it off and get the best out of situation.

Eric’s neck went red at Dele’s “thank you, sir”, and the whole thing was already worth it, just for those few seconds recorded on Dele’s snapchat.

They fell straight into their familiar routine, as soon as the car moved, and so Dele chatted away with Eric who didn’t even seem offended or put-off at the thought of spending some time together.

Dele wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t plan some competition for them both as the first activity on their list, and it was the perfect decision; not only did it give him a reason to record even more of coy Eric, it also allowed them both to relax and forget about any awkwardness, and by the time they were in the restaurant for their dinner, Dele felt happier than he had in a really long time.

Eric continued to open his doors, lead him to the table with a hand on his back, and then offered him the menu and waited for Dele to decide what he wanted to eat. It was all perfect.

Dele decided to dive into it even more.

“Should we go about our dinner in the "Lady and the Tramp" manner?” he asked in between chuckles.

He winked playfully at Eric, surprised by his own straight-forwardness. It felt a bit like playing with fire, but Dele was sure the more absurd he threw in, the less conspicuous he got, and at this point, there was no such thing as too much. Even if there was, Dele wasn’t sure he would be able to stop himself, the adrenaline and victory making him feel light and carefree.

Eric squinted his eyes.

“Cliche much?”

Dele fluttered his eyelashes. “Come on! You wouldn’t like to share food with your best bro? Bro!”

Eric hid behind his typical grumpy face, although his eyes glinted in the dark.

“Sharing a single strand of spaghetti is not romantic. Stop asking.”

“You were supposed to be my escort today, you can’t back out now!”

It seemed to sober Eric a bit.

“...I thought I was supposed to be your chauffeur?” He asked bewildered, his mouth stuffed with bread.

Fuck.

“Same difference,” he answered nonchalantly, hurriedly searching his mind for some kind of escape from the topic. “Did you know that in Fifty Shades of Grey, Christian hired a chauffeur for Anastasia literally the same day they met? I’m a famous footballer, and here I am, stuck with your ugly mug, and having to win a bet to get some service. Shambles.”

“What are you…?” Eric squinted at him and at Dele’s innocent face, he just sighed. “Fifty shades of grey… I’m seventy two flavors of done with you,” he muttered, but then offered Dele some of his starter, fed it to him on a spoon, and Dele made sure to look Eric into eyes while he swallowed it with flourish.

It was a known fact that Eric only shared food with people he liked, so Dele figured it was all good. They could continue their night like nothing had happened.

Stuffed with food, they looked around the around the restaurant and exchanged comments about other people there – Eric pretended he was above it and didn’t enjoy gossip, but then added his own input on some couple which barely stopped kissing in two hours they were there – and Dele didn’t really feel like moving, but when Eric proposed they should go for a walk, not straight to the car and home, he let himself be convinced.

And so they arrived at the nearby park, eerily quiet and empty at the late hour on a Tuesday night in January.

They laughed a bit more, Eric re-enacting his performance as a hunchbacked chauffeur and adding a voice to it till Dele had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. He could barely stand upright, so he fell into Eric’s side, and Eric caught him, as always, with an arm slipping comfortably around his waist.

They caught their breaths, both lost in their thoughts until Eric spoke up and interrupted the imaginary scene Dele was playing inside his mind.

“This feels a bit like date, huh?” He asked, no indignation of how he felt about it.

“Just two bros spending their night together,” Dele shot out immediately. “Nothing weird. Other boys do it too. Sonny and Kevin. Jan and Toby. You know it.”

Eric squeezed the hand on Dele’s waist to stop him from further explanation.

“Just saying, don’t panic,” he calmed him in his low voice.

Dele bit his lower lip and slipped away from Eric’s hold, unable to stay so close to him.

For some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from oversharing.

“…I wouldn’t know,” he admitted, ashamed.

Eric snorted. “Don’t tell me you’ve never taken Ruby out on a date.”

Suddenly, for some reason, Dele didn’t feel like playing anymore.

“I did. I’ve been on dates with her and other girls,” he explained. “But I never been on one that counted,” he mumbled and shrugged.

Eric inhaled sharply.

“Remember what I told you about, that one time? At yours?” Dele asked, well aware Eric knew exactly what night he meant. It was the most honest they gotten with each other, Dele sharing his deepest secret with Eric, and Eric answering with the same. They never addressed it again. “I’ve never… never been the one taken out.”

Dele allowed himself to taste some of the bitterness he felt at the thought. The quiet park around them lulled him into a false sense of safety, and he had to let it out.

Eric’s arm slowly sneaked around Dele’s shoulder, and as always with him, Dele wasn’t even ashamed of spilling too much.

Eric understood. Even though he had much broader experience, he did things with boys that Dele could only dream about, he understood.

“Is that what this was all about?” He asked, finally, no funny note in his voice, pure seriousness tainted by some regret. He felt bad for Dele. He took pity on him.

Dele wouldn’t have it.

“Yeah, I wanted a full Eric Dier treatment. Take me out like one of your girls!” Dele quipped with exaggeration, his heart beating way to hard in his chest, cold sweat breaking on his back. “Give me some time, I’ll write you a review. Cause I got it, right? That was it? Overrated!” Dele finished hysterically.

He wasn’t sure what kind of answer he was hoping for. For the assurance that yes, this one time, he got to experience what it was like with Eric taking care of you like he meant it? That he managed to get something that wasn’t his to take? Or on the contrary, did he want to hear that it was nothing at all, that Eric would do it for anyone and so Dele shouldn’t let himself imagine too much, yearn for too much, that it was all just a joke and it’s okay, they will just forget about it?

Suddenly, Dele was hit by realization that his actions could be even read as… as a betrayal. Did he use Eric? Did he exploited his trust?

“You should’ve said,” Eric stated.

Dele turned sharply to gave upon his face; solemn, determined, not angry. Thank god.

“Huh?”

“You think that was the full treatment? That’s not even a beginning of it! Oh, my cutie pie!” He exclaimed happily and faked some of the noises the pair in the restaurant made, the mood broken. He pinched Dele shoulder until he squirmed in Eric’s hold.

Then he hit him with his hip, in their typical manner, and just like that, the conversation was finished.

“So you do still like me, even though I used you as my stand-in escort?” Dele asked with a wink, holding his breath for an answer.

Eric seemed to consider it for a second. He measured him with his stare, and then decided: “Since my dogs like you, I guess I like you too.”

Dele exhaled with relief. That was for the best.

The ride back home was a quiet affair.

Eric’s car had a peculiar effect on Dele. Whenever they went back from a match or from being out together, Dele would instinctively relax in his seat and let the fatigue slowly overtake his body. He rarely opened his mouth then, a bit worried of what would’ve come out of it if he had. Like a spell put on him as soon as he took his seat right beside Eric, a comfortable ramble of the car made him languish and sleepy.

That time, Dele was slightly more alert than normally; every passed street meant they were getting closer to their destination and closer to the ending of their evening. In a foolish attempt at savouring the moment, Dele tried to register every breath he took. He catalogued every light behind the windows, every change of a song, every sigh from Eric, every time his hand moved from the steering wheel to scratch his short stubble, every lazy blink, every song lyric muttered under his breath.

Typically, the journey back home would pass him before he could fully notice. That night, every single detail mattered.

And yet; as hard as he tried to make the moment last, much too soon Eric was turning into Dele’s street. In a heartbeat, they were there, right in front of the gate.

Eric turned off the ignition, and Dele couldn’t help noticing that he didn’t look very keen to say goodbye either. The music stopped, and they were left in a complete silence.

It felt like there was some conclusion lacking.

Dele cleared his throat.

“So. I had fun tonight.” He winced internally at how stiff he sounded.

Eric just hummed, like he didn’t hear the words at all, and glanced at Dele, but then quickly turned when he caught his eyes.

“Yeah, riiiiight. I’m gonna go,” Dele decided, attuned to any awkwardness and determined not to let it settle. He didn’t leave though; a hand caught his biceps before he had a chance to move.

“Your third wish,” Eric said, no longer lost in his head, suddenly determined.

Dele’s eyes went wide.

“What about your third wish?” Eric insisted. He waited for an answer like there was one he expected.

Dele had considered asking for some smaller things when they were out; for Eric to sing him a song at the karaoke bar, for a piggyback to the car. He considered asking for a hand to hold, or for a dessert to share together, but then, Eric had surprised him with offering these things on his own accord, and Dele quickly forgot about the bet; he didn’t have to ask.

So yes, he saved his third wish, but it didn’t seem important anymore. There was nothing else he could ask of Eric.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I tortured you enough,” he said, a note of self-depreciation skillfully hidden behind a laugh.

“You said you wanted the full experience,” he heard in answer. Eric looked outside the front window, but then turned swiftly, a decision made. “There’s one more thing.”

“What are you...?” Dele asked, too afraid to assume anything. Suddenly, he could feel his heart beating somewhere near his throat.

Eric’s voice didn’t waver when he said: “You know what I’m talking about, Del,” and it made Dele’s breath catch embarrassingly, how he looked sharply deep into Dele’s eyes, how he seemed convinced already, prepared for Dele to admit to his best hidden longing.

Surely he didn’t mean it, Dele tried to convince himself, but what he saw wouldn’t allow him to accept the sweet denial.

From how Eric looked at him knowingly, there was no doubt he knew exactly what Dele didn’t even dare to wish for. He had a way of peering deep into his soul, made Dele completely defenceless, and here he was, once again bringing to daylight Dele’s embarrassing heart hopes.

“Come on. Ask me,” Eric insisted.

He looked at him like he already knew exactly what would happen and was telling Dele that it was suddenly okay, just for a few minutes, that they were unable to stop the fate from playing with them anyway; for this night only, they could pretend. For this night only, he would allow Dele to ask for more than he should take, and he would give it. He looked at Dele with conviction of someone who already accepted the inevitable.

“Just ask, Dele,” he repeated patiently in a hoarse voice. His solemn face did almost make Dele break. He swallowed painfully, following with his stare Eric’s tongue wetting his lips.

But it wasn’t a fair game; it wasn’t hard for Eric to play pretend, to keep up the illusion to the final moment and then drive off, like nothing happened at all.

He offered a gesture that meant nothing to him and everything to Dele, and he expected Dele to take it with no question asked. He expected Dele to beg for it, to humiliate himself in the worst way possible by accepting mere scraps. He expected Dele to give up on his dignity for a caricature of the real thing.

And Dele wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he didn’t want pity, didn’t want Eric to-

“Kiss me,” he whispered, going rogue on his self-preservation instinct.

A thrill travelled down his spine.

The forbidden fruit was too enticing not to try it, consequences already looming in the distance be damned.

Eric didn’t break the eye contact when he searched for the confirmation once more, a satisfied spark in his eyes, the cold victory his to take. A winner in this game. “Yeah?” he prompted.

On the stake here laid Dele’s first real kiss.

It would crash him so beautifully. It would bring him down to his knees, but in a exquisite way, and he would only ask for more, even if it made him hurt like nothing hurt before.

Dele nodded unsurely, and then caught himself and put more energy into it, deciding to just dive right into, the danger of breaking in the process same amount of terrifying and thrilling.

Once admitted, his burning feelings, only ignited more by the perfect evening, wouldn’t let him stay quiet.

“Kiss me, Eric,” he begged, his voice needy like never before, spurred by Eric’s darkening eyes. “Like you would kiss your best date. Kiss me like you want to take me to next date, and then next. Kiss me like you want to take me home, like it’s for real, like it’s forever, kiss me like...”

...you mean it, he didn’t finish.

Everything inside Dele screamed “danger” when Eric’s lips pressed to his, and he rebelled against the feeling, he shut his eyes forcefully, blocked any unwanted thought not to let it ruin the moment, the only one he would ever get. He closed his eyes and imagined; imagined such present and similar future, all painted in kisses, softer, less strained, less painful.

Soon, Dele’s mind knew only one word. Eric.

_Eric, Eric, Eric._

He was everywhere, he was everything.

His familiar smell, now filling Dele’s senses to the brim, the weight of his big hands on Dele’s cheeks and framing his face almost entirely in their hold.

Following Dele’s instructions, Eric absolutely devoured his lips, and it did feel like he wanted to make this kiss make up for all the others that would never happen. Just one more proof of his dedication as a best friend; giving him a taste of what would never be, offering himself to Dele, even though there was nothing in it for him.

Dele couldn’t even be mad at him for pulling down his defence.

He didn’t want to stay indifferent. In the final gesture of surrender, he let Eric push him against the door, his full weight falling into Dele deliciously and pushing, pushing, pushing onto him, making him fully let go and let out an embarrassing whine.

In between one peck and another, Eric’s hand sneaked into Dele’s hair and instead of the forceful tug Dele expected, it massaged his skull in contrast to the way he was taking him apart by his kiss.

And then, with a snap, the atmosphere changed; Eric lips slowed down, matching the pace of his hand, and the kiss turned more lazy, full of this unnamed feeling Dele couldn’t put his finger on. It made his toes curl involuntarily, the mixture of the smell and feel and emotions hitting his head and making fly, high, and higher still. He felt the control slipping from him, given up in the hands of someone who... Who wasn’t here to stay.

Who would disappear, just like others had.

He forced Dele to surround, he made Dele uncover himself, he sneaked deep under his skin, but he wouldn’t be there later to protect him, to pull him back together. He would leave him behind like this, open, ravished, used, alone with his mind screaming for more of something unreachable. He would disappear, and there was nothing Dele could do to stop him from slipping out of his arms, taking with him shreds of Dele’s dignity.

Suddenly, Dele felt like he was suffocating.

It was too much, it felt too close to giving himself up.

And he would never give himself up.

In a sharp movement, he turned his head and broke the kiss, making Eric stumble between their seats.

“Stop!” he snapped. “Stop, enough.”

Dele searched desperately for the handle of the door, his eyes open but unable to focus on anything, and maybe he saw Eric’s incredulous face, maybe he heard his voice asking if he was okay, but it was all covered in dense haze. Finally, he managed to open the door and fell awkwardly out of the car without any word. He stumbled to his house, not even taking one glance to what he was leaving behind, desperately earning to reconnect with what’s real and safe, with what’s stable and welcoming. Dele couldn’t take any more pretending.

Blindly, he reached his door, and then found his way to the bedroom.

The burning in his lips felt like the fair punishment for taking something unrightfully, the fury at Eric’s innocent way of ruining him mixing with anger at his own weakness, and this night only, he allowed himself to drown in the feeling of being not good enough.

When the sun raised, his tears had dried out and his heart had hardened. He was ready for the next performance.

_For fear of moments stolen, I don’t wanna say goodnight._

_Are we destined to burn or will we last the night?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! (This was supposed to be my summer project, hahaha)  
> I used a few one-line prompts here, because I'm not good at playful dialogues, oh well.
> 
> Shout at me, I love it!!!!! I'm so excited about this chapter! Tell me what you think!  
> [my new tumblr](https://dieretmoi.tumblr.com/)


	5. Jealousy & Comfort

Eric scuffed. He was still on edge after the match against Liverpool, the shameful draw which ended with unnecessary drama, and he couldn’t get any rest despite his muscles aching from exhaustion. His mind didn’t seem to catch up with the late hour and was going over and over the absolute scenes on the pitch and afterwards. In fruitless attempt at diverting his attention, he opened Twitter – good half an hour ago, it seemed – but unsurprisingly, his feed was filled with comments about diving. About Dele.

He shouldn’t have looked at it; not after being out there and watching the fallout from the first row, hearing the pitiful screams and noticing the way Dele retracted into his shell; finally, seeing him drop the act in the changing room. Dele lost it there; he threw a few bottles of water around and screamed into his change of clothes while all the boys around pretended not to notice, until the boss came and pulled him away for a talk. When he came back, he was seemingly over it; closed off in a way only he could be.

They didn’t get the chance to talk, not with Dele flinching away from any attempts of comfort and putting the headphones on as soon as they hit the bus, so Eric was left with a vile feeling in his stomach telling him that no, the whole thing wasn’t done already, just swiped aside, and he couldn’t, just couldn’t put it to rest when his brain was stuck on the imaginary Dele spending his evening and night alone with his sense of guilt and anger.

In some twisted logic, Eric thought that maybe – maybe if he read the twitter feed, Dele wouldn’t have to. Maybe if he went through the torture, some force of nature would keep the balance of the world and save Dele from finding spiteful comments.

If he couldn’t be for Dele in person – and Dele made it very clear that he wanted to be alone – maybe he could at least be with him spiritually. Or something. Every hateful word felt like a stab he wished he could take upon himself.

Eric’s bleary eyes skimmed through a few more comments. _When he’s not scoring or diving, you don’t get much from Dele Alli. He’s an absolute passenger here,_ one of them said, and Eric’s blood boiled again.

 _You poor, blind excuse of a human,_ Eric would answer if he could afford to do something as reckless, _you fu-_

Eric’s phone vibrated in his hand interrupting his fantasy.

 **ed edd n eddy:** how is he?????

Eddie was in contact with Dele before, and in any other situation, Eric would’ve been surprised that he hadn’t texted him directly, but considering even him couldn’t really reach Dele... Well.

 **eric:** how do you think

 **eric:** pissed

 **ed edd n eddy:** i would be more than pissed if someone leaked my sex tape

Eric raised from his lying position so fast that the world spun in front of his eyes.

 **eric:** WHAT?!

 **ed edd n eddy:** (Video) Spurs’ Dele Alli Sex Tape Leaked After Liverpool Dive, Fans React Hilariously.

 **eric:** fuck.

 **ed edd n eddy:** yeah

Ten minutes later, Eric was already on the road.

* * *

Considering that Dele’s privacy had already been invaded, Eric should’ve probably think twice before using the spare keys he owned and inviting himself into Dele’s house, but he did what had to be done. The house looked dark, like no one was inside or at least no one who wanted to be found, and visions of Dele hiding from the entire world and dealing with it on his own come came back to Eric’s mind with even more force. He rushed inside, expecting more scenes: more bottles on the floor, more screaming and anger, maybe some crisis management being doing already, just to find...

Silence.

“Dele, you here?” he shouted, trying to make his appearance known. “Dele!”

He skipped every other step while climbing up the stairs to the main bedroom, not having found his mate downstairs, this time expecting him hiding in despair underneath the safe bedsheets.

He wasn’t there either.

“Del!” he tried again, his heart missing a beat when he noticed a dimmed light coming from his game room.

He all of stumbled into the room in his rush. He was greeted by wide eyes of someone ambushed in his own house.

“What-“ Dele stuttered, jumping on his chair. He took off his headphones and stared at Eric incredulously: “-are you doing here?!”

Eric stopped awkwardly in the entrance, suddenly at loss.

Not having thought before what exactly he would say once here, he finally asked: “How are you?”

He wasn’t sure if there was any protocol to follow here, and didn’t want to spook Dele any more with sudden outbursts. _Pretend everything is okay, pretend everything is under control..._

“Fine,” Dele snapped and rolled his eyes.

 _Fine_ was the thing they never said to each other. Unless they were very much not fine.

“Those fuckers will be caught, you don’t get away with this shit,” Eric stated, painfully aware of how easy it was, in fact, to get away with such shit.

“Haters will get caught? Yeah, sure,” Dele muttered. “What are you doing here? I want to be left alone, wasn’t it clear before?”

It was then that Eric finally realised that Dele was much too calm about the whole thing. Calm and... oblivious.

“...Eric? I asked what you’re doing here?” Dele asked in his best I-don’t-have-time-for-your-bullshit voice.

Eric raised his hand to his neck, trying to think of the best plan here.

“...nothing?” he half-asked.

It made Dele throw his headphones on the desk and get up.

“Who will be caught, Dier?” he asked, his stare still hard as steel, quickly approaching Eric.

Eric breath hitched as he felt the shift in the air, Dele’s passive-aggressiveness apparently contagious enough to cloud Eric’s judgement too.

His entire body suddenly buzzed with anger.

Because Dele had been caught on the camera with some girl who would now probably get the lifetime lasting anecdote of being the one sucking off the famous footballer in the leaked tape. The burning irritation, the feeling of being somehow deceived here, threatened to spill from Eric’s mouth if he decided to open them once again.

“Eric, for fuck sake, have you come here just to stare?! I’m not in mood for your nonsense!” Dele snapped. “Speak!”

But Eric wasn’t sure if anything good would come out of it he did speak.

Dele didn’t know, was still blissfully oblivious to the turmoil happening outside of his little bubble, and Eric didn’t want to be the one forcing him out of it, cutting through the fort he presented to the world.

And in it all, he was also very much on edge after hearing from Eddie what exactly the tape included.

He didn’t think it would be right for him to watch it.

He didn’t think he could take it. He would probably get sick.

“Have you hit your head or something?” Dele continued, his brow furrowed, his eyes ice cold.

Eric wondered what his face looked like in the video. Was he smiling? Was he enjoying being recorded, did he know, was it his idea?

Dele turned around towards the desk, reaching for his phone lying there.

It was turned off, and Eric watched in slow motion how Dele put in the code.

“I didn’t think anyone could piss me off even more, congratulations,” he mumbled. He was seconds away from seeing the notifications.

This dumb boy who thought it was a good idea to find any willing girl and just go for it, the reckless idiot who wanted to have a recording of the whole thing, who preferred a meaningless flick over- over something serious, something real and forever, something he could have if only he wanted...

He didn’t deserve to have his whole world ripped from his hands, again.

Eric didn’t have words to say, but-

His hand caught Dele’s and tugged, until he swirled and turned to him, stumbling into Eric’s chest; his phone escaped his hold and hit the floor with a loud crash.

“What the fuck-“

Eric let his instinct lead him into the kiss. He expected it to be angry, forceful, full of- Of jealousy, dirty, sick feeling, making it feel too rotten and desperate, and instead... His lips found the other soft ones and covered them softly, sweetly, the desperation hidden between the opposite emotions and the need to protect, to promise a million different things, but first and foremost, that it’s going to be okay.

Cause it was the dumb and reckless and _his_ idiot.

Eric covered Dele’s mouth with thousand butterfly kissed and put everything in there – unexpectedly forced into the spotlight, he didn’t have time to hide his feelings deeper, they were all slipping away from him in the quiet reassurance that could be tasted in every touch of their lips; I’m here, I’m here, it’s okay, it’s okay-

His fingers found their way to Dele’s neck and repeated the same gesture he always offered as comfort, soft massage at the back of his head, and he hold tight to Dele, wishing he could hold him in his arms for the time being, away from the public, away from haters, and casual flings ended in sex tapes. Or at least he wanted to soften the blow, prepare him for it, offer some solace even before he knew why he needed it.

Apparently, he wasn’t as conspicuous as he thought he was, because Dele trembled in his arms, and then slipped away from them, his lips wet and slightly open, his eyes wider than before. Not guarded at all anymore, terrified.

“Why? What’s wrong?” he asked in whisper. “What happened, Eric?”

Eric made sure he didn’t break the eye contact when he said: “Someone hacked into your files. Leaked some... compromising files.”

Recognition flashed in Dele’s eyes, and he dropped to his knees to frantically scroll through his phone notifications.

The sight of Dele on his knees in front of him burned into Eric’s mind. When Dele raised his eyes head and Eric could see the fear and the tears quickly filling his eyes, the irony hit him and quickly flooded him with disgusting, bitter aftertaste.

This is not what he wanted. Not at all.

“Leave me alone,” Dele said in trembling voice, his eyes closing.

“Dele, I won’t-“

“Leave. Me. Alone,” he snapped. Then he threw his phone against the wall.

Eric watched as it fell to the ground, the screen now in pieces. He slowly walked towards the door, wishing he would be stopped at any point, willing to turn at even the least audible sound coming from Dele.

There wasn’t any.

Once downstairs, he called Harry and told him Dele needed him. Once Harry was there, Eric knew he had to leave. It didn’t make it any easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I ever stop apologizing after these chapters? I don't know, I don't know. This was long planned chapter which I wrote very quickly. I'm not sure about the result. (((self-bashing edited)))
> 
> Anyway, hello in the new year! I'm still here! Are you too? If yes, thank you for sticking around. We will see it through, guys.
> 
> [my tumblr](https://dieretmoi.tumblr.com/)


	6. interludium: moments in rewind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how it actually was.  
> [a song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dzNvk80XY9s&list=RDrx7h2thalzQ&index=27)

**I. In anger**

Dele felt another wave of fury washing through his body.

“So I’m only good at Spurs? Do you hear yourself?!” he asked. “Bet that if you could move, you would be out of these door before-”

Dele struggled in Eric’s hold, ready to push him away, but Eric only squeezed him harder.

“I just CARE about you! You’re such a child sometimes, I can’t believe you!”

For a second, Dele thought he had pushed at Eric’s buttons for too long, just like with the AC board; that Eric would snap at him and just take a swing, hit him straight in the face, maybe push him until he would fall to the ground, and then kick, and kick, and-

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!“ Eric stepped even closer to him, their noses almost touching, their gazes locked on each other, and the air escaping their mouths mixing together.

Dele’s breath hitched, his entire body tense with the adrenaline.

“Jerk! What’s your pro-“

~~The blow never came, but what followed felt like a slap to Dele’s face.~~

Eric shook his head in fury, looking done, desperate but helpless, and with one short movement, he leaned in until there was no more distance between them.

~~A pair of strong lips attacked Dele’s.~~

~~Dele froze, with his eyes still open, with a last breath let out in what sounded almost like a squeal and no intake.~~

He rested his forehead against Dele’s, and the unexpected weight, warm skin touching his and brows tickling him with every heavy intake of breath forced Dele to shut his mouth. 

Seconds later, Eric spoke again, desperation making his pronunciation sloppy, words shooting out of his mouth. 

“I care, okay?” he whispered, breathless. “I care. Even if you don’t, I do. About YOU, my best friend, not the big star, not the product. Please, Dele. I’m begging you. Be smart about it, don’t let them mess with you, don’t make a wrong move, it’s your life.“

Pleas escaping Eric’s lips rendered Dele speechless. He had never before seen Eric lose control like this, not even once in the time they he’d known each other, although being footballers together forced them to go through many emotional moments together; the sudden change from anger into vulnerability made Dele’s head spin.

He stared at Eric carefully and tried to find some clues as to why he would try to deceive Dele but saw only honesty, his good intentions obvious in the way he tried to reason with Dele and begged him to be careful, to outsmart the system. 

Frankly… Dele had never thought he was important enough to make Eric _beg_ for anything, least of all to take care of himself, as if Dele’s fate, his fortune or lack thereof would touch Eric personally and not just slightly, but to an unmeasured extent. 

“Okay. Okay...” Dele swallowed painfully, reading himself for admitting his defeat; when he spoke, it was in a soft whisper, so different to the screaming match they just went through. “God... Maybe, maybe it is too soon. I don’t know, Eric. It’s so complicated, I just- I don’t know. There’s no manual on how to be a footballer.”

“There are some cautionary tales, though.” 

They peered into each other eyes for a second more, Eric gaze offering comfort and understanding, but then-

The thermostat let out a long sound which cut through the silence. The AC started to work again. Just like that, the moment was broken; they jumped away from each other, in result creating some distance, and pointedly looked away.

And yet, emotionally, Dele felt closer to Eric than ever.

“But you’re only allowed to Spain-“ _or_ _Portugal_ , his mind contributed “-on holidays too,” he joked half-heartedly.

Weeks later, when he repeated the same words on another Insta live, he knew instantly that Eric understood his sentiment. 

They exchanged a knowing smile, and just like that, the pact was cemented. 

Only on holidays.

**II. Drunk**

“I wanna-“ Dele started, still entranced by Eric’s sharp, concerned gaze, and he didn’t know where this sentence was going to end; did he want to be like Drake, or God, or... Or like Maria?

And he didn’t know which of these options scared him most. The world swayed again, and he reached out, to hold onto Eric’s steady form.

He shuddered, only partly because of the breeze.

“Mhm? What do you want?” Eric asked, deadly serious, ready to help him to find it.

To be the most important person, he wanted to say. So I can be like Drake, or like God.

Dele’s gaze slipped to Eric’s chapped lips, bare of any lipstick at all, and his heartbeat matched the muffled beat of the music in the distance, the wave of lust flushing through his slumbered body.

The thought crossed his brain like a flash of a photo taken of them at their best, or at their worst:

...so I can be like Maria.

His body lurched before his mind managed to catch up with it, and once again, he lost the sense of time passing, because he blinked once, and he was in the different world, the one in which his lips were allowed to touch Eric’s. The one in which he could be whoever he wanted to be.

~~He pressed his mouth to Eric’s, unmoving at first, shocked at where he found himself, but then he jumped into it fully, trying to recreate what he saw, and the world lurched and danced again, swirled in the colourful lights.~~

In his mind, he slotted perfectly into Eric’s arms, like it was where he’d always meant to be; colourful lights all around, jealous girls looking at him getting the man, and the man himself catching him and spinning him in his arms. Spinning, spinning…

Through the flashes of perfect happily ever after, reality hit him straight into his face. 

His brow hit against Eric’s collarbone after he stumbled and fell gracelessly. His sudden movement startled Eric, who jerked away slightly and made the impact all the more forceful.

“Jesus Christ, Del,” Eric groaned, stable arms sneaking around Dele’s arms and making him aware that they were still there, even if he could barely feel the weight of his limbs. “That’s what you want? To kill me with your deadweight?”

Dele shook his head, caressing Eric’s skin with the tip of his nose. Huh, that was a nice feeling. He repeated the motion, enjoying the texture and warmth tickling his nose. 

“Hey, Del?” Eric asked gently. “You okay?”

Careful fingers scratched at the back of Dele’s neck and he relaxed in answer even more.

“Perfect,” he mumbled.

“Oh, you lazy ass. Just wanted to rest?”

Dele tried to remember what else he wanted; something about Drake and Maria and overcoming fire or maybe drowning, but it all tangled together and Dele couldn’t grasp even one slight coherent thought. The hand in his hair and the skin under his lips and the arm around him, the voice in his ear, the smell in his nose… They all told him: there was nothing else he could possibly yearn.

“Nice,” he mumbled.

“I should record this and let the lads have a field day with it. Unbelievable.” The warm body under Dele moved and in the next blink, he realised, they were leaning down back onto the sand.

Dele whined at the slight distance created between them.

“Shhh. Such a baby. Here we go.” A careful hand maneuvered Dele’s limbs until he was lying comfortably. “Baby…” Eric repeated, amused.

Ba-by. Baby. _Baby_. The word echoed in Dele’s mind.

“So... can I... baby? Like Drake?” he heard himself ask. “Or Maria…”

Some time had to pass before Eric spoke, cause Dele almost forgot about the question, lulled by the sound of waves crashing into the beach.

“You can be anyone you want to be. I gotcha.” 

Anyone. Dele could be anyone. 

“But I prefer if you stay Dele, okay? Just Dele is enough.”

 _Enough,_ was the last thought Dele recorded.

When Dele woke up on the next day, the last thing he could remember from their night out was dancing around the dance floor happily, no recollection of leaving the club, no recollection of getting back to the hotel.

Eric smiled at him fondly when he complained about his head hurting, and told him he didn’t do anything stupid, _nothing happened, Del_ , and that was it.

But then he walked away and asked Maria “you okay, baby?” and some realisation nugged at Dele’s mind, some lost thought fleeting just out of his reach. He observed the pair walking away and shook away any uncomfortable wishes. 

_Just Dele_ was enough.

**III. Rebound**

“I love her. I love her, and she’s leaving, Del,” Eric whizzed out.

The silence stretched while Dele tightened his grip around his arms, and Eric closed his eyes, hoping the ground would open and just take him; his emotions too much for him to handle, making him vomit them all over not to let them poison him to death.

“Listen to me,” Dele finally said, with surprising confidence. “Listen. It’s not the end of the world, okay? It’s not. The world has this stupid tendency not to end, even if you wish it would.” Dele chuckled bitterly. ”So you’ll survive. You’ll be okay.” He backed a little to look Eric into his eyes, and his determination made his eyes gleam in the darkness. “You will. I don’t know much about anything, but I know this. Even if you feel like shit now, you’ll survive and be okay. You’re so much more, Eric. You deserve all the happiness, and-“

Dele took a long breath in and calmed his voice.

“-and you’ll find it. Good things happen to good people, okay? You’re so-“

He didn’t finish.

Dele looked so sincere, so much more mature than normally, so considerate and sure of his words when just minutes ago he was joking and every silly thing he said somehow managed to make Eric feel this tiny bit better, and he looked at Eric like he was important, more important than any job. Dele seemed like a natural complement to their surroundings, his silhouette so familiar, so London-like when he wore a hoodie, similar to Eric’s, which didn’t tame him at all and, and Eric wanted to believe him, wanted him to cast a spell on his life and make it better just like that; he wanted to take his confidence and care and let it fill the void he carried in his heart and – and Dele held Eric, held him tightly and wouldn’t let go, so Eric didn’t have to worry about him escaping his hold – and he was warm, and close, and so so loving, so deliciously present, willing to be there and comfort Eric and give him whatever Eric needed – and maybe he just needed closeness, touch, not to feel so awfully alone and– and–

And Eric didn’t let him finish.

~~Once again, he snapped, he cut right in, but this time, not with words. His brain shortcut and he wasn’t sure what he was even doing, until his lips were on Dele’s, needy, desperate, asking him to bring him relief.~~

An embarrassing, whiny sob escaped from Eric’s mouth and he brought his hands to his mouth, trying to force it back. 

Dele shut up, immediately, his eyes going wide.

“Oh my God,” he whispered.

Eric, shocked at his own antics, shook his head frantically, helplessly fighting the emotion.

Dele’s voice went incredibly soft. “Eric. Eric, it’s okay.”

It didn’t stop Eric from shaking his head, and somehow, made his eyes prickle even more. 

“Fuck,” he whizzed out. “Stop! You’re making me… _Stop._ ”

Dele looked at him, suddenly not unsure anymore, instead sharp as a razor.

“Jeez. You’re allowed a break, you know? You’re allowed to have emotions. I don’t know if you heard, but it’s okay to be overwhelmed and it’s okay to cry sometimes. Boys cry too.”

It was him, it was Eric who told him that, one night months ago when Dele crumbled under the weight of expectations, right in front of him. It was easy to offer comfort back then; easy as breathing, when Eric was on the other side, stable and comforting, in control. He couldn’t understand back then why Dele would shy away, why he would be embarrassed and then angry, all the while Eric went out of his way to offer show him it was _okay._

Yet here he was, unable to take it, absolutely loathing himself for being so… embarrassing.

Eric hid his face in his knees which he raised up onto the seat.

“Hey! If you think it’s okay to put your dirty shoes onto my impeccable upholstering-”

“-then I’m right,” Eric mumbled into his hand, the joke falling flat.

“...I guess I deserve that. Karma, huh?”

Eric tried to take a deep breath in, but it was almost impossible with emotions still choking him.

“Honestly, Eric. Why can’t you just let go? Just this once?” 

“I don’t like it,” Eric mumbled.

“I don’t think anyone does,” Dele stated solemnly. “And still.”

They sat in silence, dogs’ barks and some choked, irregular breaths the only sounds in the car.

Slowly, Eric raised his eyes, and peered at Dele. Even after he said all the right words, Eric was still prepared to see some amusement from Dele. He was greeted by the sight of him lost in thought, staring out of the window.

“I know it might not be what you need right now-” he started, “but I want you to know. I’m always here for you, okay? You won’t be alone.”

Once again, Eric felt emotionally compromised, a new wave of… of weakness pulling at his heartstrings. “Del.”

“No, listen, and better fucking believe what I’m saying, cause I don’t know when we’ll have a chance to speak like this, and I need you to know. I’m not Maria and I can’t replace her. I can’t fix this for you, like you can’t fix my issues for me, but I can have your back. I won’t let you do anything you regret, and I won’t let you face this alone. We’re a team. Capiche?”

Eric stared at Dele, entranced by his confidence. 

“Here’s the plan. Go home, Eric. She’s still there, this evening only. You two probably need to talk. Don’t lose your chance.” Dele’s eyes glinted in the darkness, full of determination.

“What am I supposed to say? I tried to convince her not to- not to break up, couldn’t convince her not to go – but she’s set. She’s leaving me.” Eric pinched his tired eyes and bundled himself further under the blanket.

“She’s your friend, right? That’s what you used to say. Your best friend. You should at least try to say goodbye.”

“I don’t want to. You’re my best friend,” Eric tried to deflect.

Dele shot him an unimpressed glare. “Duh. But that’s different. You gotta. I’ll make you go, whether you want to or not.”

With a final snap, his composure crumbled. He nodded, almost physically feeling the control slipping from his fingers. 

It… It wasn’t all bad.

“And then, after, I’ll be there and we’ll face it together. Teamwork and all that.”

Breathing was getting easier and easier with each word falling from Dele’s lips.

“No getting rid of me, and no faking that you’re okay. Not yet, but you’ll be, I’ll make sure.”

Slowly, muscle after muscle, Eric relaxed in the seat, tension leaving his body.

“...one day at the time,” Dele finished.

And here it was, exactly what Eric strived for: an answer, a plan. Some assurance that there is a tomorrow after the world how he knows it ends, someone to guide him and catch him and lead him; someone to put down his desperation and restless energy. Someone to _stay._

“Okay,” Eric accepted, finally sated, with surprise realising he was no longer desperate for something intangible.

Dele smiles softly and added: "you can come to mine tomorrow."

**IV. Play pretend**

“Your third wish,” Eric said, no longer lost in his head, suddenly determined.

Dele’s eyes went wide.

“What about your third wish?” Eric insisted. He waited for an answer like there was one he expected.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I tortured you enough,” he said, a note of self-depreciation skillfully hidden behind a laugh.

“You said you wanted the full experience,” he heard in answer. Eric was looking outside the front window, but then turned swiftly, a decision made. “There’s one more thing.”

“What are you...?” Dele asked, too afraid to assume anything. Suddenly, he could feel his heart beating somewhere near his throat.

Eric’s voice didn’t waver when he said: “You know what I’m talking about, Del,” and it made Dele’s breath catch embarrassingly, how he looked sharply deep into Dele’s eyes, how he seemed convinced already, prepared for Dele to admit to his best hidden longing.

From how Eric looked at him knowingly, there was no doubt he knew exactly what Dele didn’t even dare to wish for. He had a way of peering deep into his soul, made Dele completely defenceless, and here he was, once again bringing to daylight Dele’s embarrassing heart hopes.

“Come on. Ask me,” Eric insisted.

He looked at him like he already knew exactly what would happen and was telling Dele that it was suddenly okay, just for a few minutes, that they were unable to stop the fate from playing with them anyway; for this night only, they could pretend. For this night only, he would allow Dele to ask for more than he should take, and he would give it. He looked at Dele with conviction of someone who already accepted the inevitable.

“Just ask, Dele,” he repeated patiently in a hoarse voice. His solemn face did almost make Dele break. He swallowed painfully, following with his stare Eric’s tongue wetting his lips.

But it wasn’t a fair game; it wasn’t hard for Eric to play pretend, to keep up the illusion to the final moment and then drive off like nothing happened at all. He expected Dele to give up on his dignity for a caricature of the real thing.

And Dele wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he didn’t want pity, didn’t want Eric to-

~~“Kiss me,” he whispered, going rogue on his self-preservation instinct.~~

“I wish....” he started, but then his inner alarms bleared _danger, danger, danger_ and he stopped abruptly.

“Yeah?” Eric prompted.

“I wish we would do this more often,” he said instead, as honest as ever and yet somehow dodging the bullet.

Eric chuckled. “You never ask me out anymore…” he responded exaggeratedly, and even threw in a little suggestive wink, bless his heart.

Something inside Dele just… snapped. 

“I wish some of this was real,” he stated and broke away from Eric’s magnetic gaze, sharp as razor, careful not to let any emotions show in his voice. “I wish you would take me seriously.”

Eric’s smile dropped. He leaned away, back onto his seat, his eyes wide with surprise.

“What do you mean?” he asked, incredulous.

“Remember when I didn’t need to force you to spend time with me? I just wish it was still like this,” Dele said, and even though he tried so hard not to let his bitterness tint his word, it still sounded awfully vulnerable.

He groaned internally, aware of the warmth in his cheeks.

“What are you talking about? We do spend time together!”

“In training. Before matches. After matches. Not when… Not when we don’t have to.” Dele cleared his throat. “And even then, I don’t remember the last time we stopped _joking_ for a minute.”

“Jesus Christ, Dele, what do you mean? I thought- I thought tonight was-”

“It was exactly what you thought. Some nice little play pretend.”

...to shut me up. So I can have a taste of something out of my reach. And it was still one big farse.

“Do you mean this? Do you feel like we- like we don’t do things anymore? I thought it was…”

“Hm? What?” Dele asked but didn’t wait for the answer. He wasn’t sure anymore what exactly he had in mind before - did he want a date, did he want something more, maybe, but - at this moment, he realised with a sudden clarity, no fantasy ever would be more important than having his best friend still in his life and spending time with him, for real, without hiding behind some jokes or banter or exaggeration. Recently, that’s all they shared.

Yeah, we’re so close, look at that, hahaha, it’s all just for jokes! Funny, right?

So what if he overreacted, what if he went a bit too far? Confronted by Eric’s obliviousness, his pushing for Dele to go further and further, to play it off like nothing, Dele finally understood that pretending really... wasn’t worth it anymore. Not here, not in general. 

He used to be sure Eric cared for him far too much to play with him, but adding that to the sudden distance between them and how he brushed off everything, every lingering stare, every careful touch, every silent conversation, every question about each other they had to answer…

“I thought this is what you wanted. A… A date,” Eric said in a weak voice. 

“I wanted to do something with you. I wanted you, for myself, for… real.”

Eric stared and stared like he couldn’t comprehend the situation and Dele just wanted to flee, to let it rest.

“Everything I’ve done in the past weeks… hell, past months…” Eric’s voice cracked, like it always does when he’s nervous. “I thought it was exactly what you wanted. That’s why I did it. Del...”

There was just a tiny bit too much pity in his voice to make it bearable.

“Stop!” Dele shook his head. “Whatever. Thanks for today. No more wishes. Ever.”

Dele moved to open the door, but Eric’s hand shot up to stop him.

“For fuck’s sake, you can’t just drop that bomb and leave! Dele, please. Let’s talk.”

At the end, he was pleading, and only hearing that managed to truly stop Dele in his tracks. He took one more calming breath and turned back to face Eric.

“Not much more to say, Eric. I really enjoyed today, but I want… I want real stuff, sometimes. Not just fun and games. It’s tiring too, you know. I don’t know how we got to the place when our first reaction is just- to brush everything off, to laugh it away.”

Eric's heavy stare and solemn face, they were a bit too much to take and made Dele wonder if he actually meant what he was saying. If he was ready to make this deciding step from jokes between mates and something more, something serious.

But then he remembered their conversation in the park. That’s what he wanted. 

“I don’t know either,” Eric said and cleared his throat. “I’ll try… Let’s both try… If it comes to this...”

“Yeah,” Dele jumped in. They were on the same page already, but it felt too much like playing with fire, a word too much too soon, and it could all fall apart.

For now, he stared into Eric’s eyes and saw the same rough realisation. Amid all the jokes and deflection, they mostly played _themselves_. As they stared into each other’s eyes, they made a silent pact: no more.

**V. Jealousy & Comfort**

“Have you hit your head or something?” Dele asked, his brow furrowed, his eyes ice cold.

Eric wondered what his face looked like in the video. Was he smiling? Was he enjoying being recorded, did he know, was it his idea?

Dele turned around towards the desk, reaching for his phone lying there.

It was turned off, and Eric watched in slow motion as Dele put in the code.

“I didn’t think anyone could piss me off even more, congratulations,” he mumbled. He was seconds away from seeing the notifications.

This dumb boy who thought it was a good idea to find any willing girl and just go for it, the reckless idiot who wanted to have a recording of the whole thing, who preferred a meaningless flick over- over something serious, something real and forever, something he could have if only he wanted...

He didn’t deserve to have his whole world ripped from his hands, again.

Eric didn’t have words to say, but-

His hand caught Dele’s and tugged, until he swirled and turned to him, stumbling into Eric’s chest; his phone escaped his hold and hit the floor with a loud crash.

“What the fuck-“

~~Eric let his instinct lead him into the kiss.~~

Eric held Dele with his hands on Dele’s shoulders as he studied Dele’s features - annoyed, sure, with him, but not heartbroken yet, not sad. Anger, Eric could take easily. So easily, that he didn’t even notice the way Dele was squirming in his hold, fight his way away.

“What’s your deal?” he snapped.

Some ugly feeling - jealousy, possessiveness, _mine_ \- burned in Eric’s guts making him consider that maybe Dele deserved to have his smug wiped away. Playing a rockstar would come with a price to pay; recklessness would be followed by a lesson to be learned - don’t look for one night stands, don’t let anyone not worth it close, don’t open up…

No, this one wasn’t the lesson Eric wanted him to learn.

Shame creeped into his body, painting his neck with warm red, as he stared into Dele’s young face.

The boy was still waiting for the answer, but when Eric didn’t offer it, he changed his tactics and resorted to puppy eyes. “What is it?”

Any irritation that Eric felt before melted away as he watched Dele change his demeanor, fight leaving his body replaced by worry.

Everything inside him screamed at him not to open his mouth, just pack Dele into his car and drive away, far, far away from the public eye, from any media at all. To the countryside, maybe, some farm where the dogs could run freely and they would run after them, carefree and oblivious to any scandals.

Eric let his head drop heavily onto Dele’s shoulder, still holding him tightly and not allowing him to step away. 

“Are you okay?” 

He didn’t need to keep him in place anymore, because Dele relaxed, and in an unexpected turn of events, it was Dele keeping Eric up right, not the other way around.

And Eric realised an uncomfortable truth that he often overlooked: that he couldn’t always form a human shield protecting Dele from the world, and frankly, he didn’t need to, because the boy proved times and times again - too many times to be honest - that he was perfectly capable of overcoming anything the fate threw at him.

_Get a grip, Dier._

Eric raised his head and blinked to get rid of the blurriness of his eyes. “See for yourself.”

He turned around and got on his knees to retrieve the dropped phone from under the chair. 

He didn’t get up from his knees, just reached out to offer Dele his phone, and a frantic thought crossed his mind about how symbolic this moment was. Here Eric was, on the knees for Dele, just like this girl had been. 

Her, a nameless girl, kneeling in front of Dele just for the kick of it, for a few minutes followed by a monstrous follow-out, and him right here, reprising this role and wordlessly begging Dele to notice how much more he was offering. Unwavering support for unlimited time, for one, but also the choice, the freedom, the power.

Because that’s what it was. In the end, Eric realised, it wasn’t his battle to fight.

He couldn’t protect Dele from everything.

But he could be there for him, when his face fell and his shaking hand hurled the phone against the wall, when his terrified eyes looked around for some solution, when he lost all the power and his body fell limp and Eric needed to catch him.

He would choose to do it, to go down onto his knees for Dele, over and over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of hate it, to be honest, but oh well. Have I completely lost my plot? Tell me if you think so, and I'll shut up.  
> [tumblr](www.dieretmoi.tumblr.com)


	7. On purpose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as the previous update felt as a necessary filler, this... This, I'm proud of. Thank you for being here for this whole journey. Please enjoy...  
> the real first kiss.

The first World Cup Eric watched, or at least remembered watching consciously, was the one in Korea and Japan, in 2002. Matches were played at the weirdest times and that’s what made this tournament stand out from any other football competition young Eric had seen before. Luckily, the school term in Portugal had already ended and he didn’t have to beg his parents to let him skip school to be able to see England play Argentina and Sweden in what was called a _group of death_. If he had had to, they probably wouldn’t have let him ( _you’re eight, Eric; school is more important than football, got it?_ ). Frankly, it would break his heart, and maybe even push him to disobedience for the first time in his life. Even if he wasn’t able to explain his reasoning back then, he was sure he wouldn’t survive not watching the matches. The World Cup felt too enticing for his idealistic mind and too big to be ignored. Back then, it was a little bit of magic among the everyday routine. Any scene from the World Cup looked perfect even when watched on an old grainy TV, to the point of it giving off a fairytale-like feeling with a splash of an out-of-reach aftertaste. And yet, young Eric watched every single match, from start to the finish, and as soon as he was done for the day, he ran straight to the garden to practice corners and penalties. With every ball which hit the net, he was more and more boldly believing that one day, it would be him living the dream. 

A year later, he joined Sporting Academy.

In 2006, he watched all matches together with the other boys at their dorm. In an ironic turn of events which a grown-up Eric would later appreciate but a twelve year old version of him absolutely loathed, England faced Portugal in the quarterfinals. Eric watched, with a steadily growing warmth at the back of his neck and a sick taste in his mouth, how Portugal scored penalty after penalty. Other boys cheered in exhilaration while his own heart ached for devastated English lads. It was then that he got his final proof of where his loyalties lay; that night, while he lied in his bed waiting for the sleep to finally bring some relief to his wounded pride, he realised with striking clarity that his heart was undoubtedly bleeding English blood, and that if it ever came to that, he would play in the World Cup with three lions on his shirt, or he would not play there at all.

But it was only in 2010, when a sixteen year old Eric watched the World Cup with his whole family in the spacious living room in their Lisbon house, that he fully grasped the idea that, perhaps, playing on the professional level was a real possibility and not just a pipe dream. Eric was fresh after signing his first professional contract with Sporting, and he knew his journey was just beginning, but still, for the first time ever, he felt that with the right amount of sacrifice and dedication, he could get a real shot. While watching the players out there on the pitch, he wondered what was their first club, if they expected to go as far and if they had any advice, because Eric knew… He knew he wanted what they had with his whole heart.

The day of the finale was a scorching hot one, and by the time the match ended, they were all wet from the sweat and their close proximity, all Diers piled close together on two sofas in the living room. Eric didn’t even notice the unpleasant heat. He drank every scene in, every wide smile from Spanish players and every frown from the Netherland’s team, and he was sure that it was football at its best; its glorious face made anything else irrelevant.

The match ended, but Eric didn’t want to come back to reality yet; he protested loudly when Steph jokingly changed the channel to her favourite soap opera, and their dad had to come between them to reclaim the remote control and stop their fight. 

They continued to watch the TV coverage, which was switching between the studio and the pitch, and one word leading to another, soon they were all discussing the long hair on Ramos’ head and lack thereof on Iniesta’s; could it be that it has somehow influenced their game? Frank claimed that it definitely had.

Then, Iker Casillas appeared on the TV, clearly overwhelmed by emotions. Eric couldn’t even imagine how he had to feel, what had to go through his mind. Iker thanked his family - Eric wondered briefly how he even still remembered any words at all when he must’ve been buzzing with pure adrenaline… - and then, he stopped talking and, just like that, smooched the interviewer.

The chatter of the family died down as all of them got shell shocked by the turn of events.

“Aw. That’s so romantic!” Thirteen year old Francesca was the first to react. Eddie responded with a gagging sound.

Eric watched it in stunned silence, mostly confused.

“Romantic?! Humiliating! What a jerk,” Steph jumped in, ready to start her monologue on gender roles and woman oppression, and she was quickly followed by similarly eager Daisy. 

Eric tuned them out and instead turned to take a look at his father’s face. He must’ve felt his gaze, cause he asked: “What’s up bud?”

“Why would he...?” Eric asked incredulously. “The man just won the World Cup and he’s thinking about a _girl_?”

Jeremy smiled knowingly. “Ah, that’s love for you. When something huge happens, you want to share it with those you love the most. You’re not the most rational at the moment. I can imagine what pushed him to do this, felt that once or twice in my life.” He gave Eric’s mother a lingering look, and Eric wondered suddenly if they ever publicly celebrated any of his father’s championships. _Gross._

“But it’s not okay,” Luise added from the entrance, on her way back with some snacks. “You shouldn’t put your loved ones in such uncomfortable positions. She’s gobsmacked, this girl, and I don’t blame her. Highly unprofessional of Casillas. He’ll forget about it in a minute when they give him back his trophy and he’ll remain the national hero, but she’ll have to live with the label. As if she’s just someone’s girlfriend and not a professional herself.”

Frank rolled her eyes. “Muuum, they are together! Everybody knows that! They’re the hot couple, I read about it in the last edition of-”

“Doesn’t make it right. He pretty much forced himself on her,” Daisy didn’t let Frank to finish. “Terrible.”

“Your sister is right,” Jeremy added. “Boys, if any of you-”

Eric groaned in response, tuning out the lecture. On the TV, Fabregas was getting ready to speak to some other interviewer.

“...got it? Respect them. That’s the clearest sign of love, okay? Respect.”

Eric nodded unconsciously, until there was a hand slapping the back of his hand which brought him out of his haze. “Hey, mister footballer, heard me?” followed.

“Yeah, yeah. Respect. Got it,” Eric answered with dismissal.

He couldn’t imagine a world in which after winning the World Cup, he would think about anything other than football, and so, he decided, it was one of paternal pieces of advice he could safely push to the back of his head. 

* * *

“My boy! My big boy!” Louise was the first one to greet him, when he approached the stands, the rest of his welcoming party just cheering.

Exhausted but exhilarated Eric fell right into the familiar arms of his mother. 

“We’re so proud of you,” she whispered into his ear. He only hugged her tighter, overcome with emotion.

He was passed from an embrace to embrace, his siblings screaming at him excitedly, patting him on any body part and smiling proudly - in a way which assured him that they weren’t just proud of their country, and they were proud of him, personally - and Eric almost lost count of all the people who surrounded him with love and support. 

His dad, the most patient of them all, was the last one to squeeze him until Eric almost lost his breath, while the rest of the crowd went on recounting the events of the afternoon, allowing them to speak privately.

“Dad,” Eric found himself letting out gruffly, immediately terrified of the weight behind the words which threatened to escape him. And yet, he couldn’t stop them from coming up to the daylight. “I almost kissed him,” he confessed out of nowhere.

But Jeremy must’ve known immediately what Eric was referring to, because he squeezed him even closer and patted his head in comfort. With anyone else, Eric wouldn’t have had the right words to explain what he was feeling, he wouldn't have even dared to think about these things too loudly, but the safe aura of his dad made any of his pretenses crumble.

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’, but...” Jeremy commented fondly. At Eric’s pained groan, he changed instantly into a full concerned father mode. “It’s good that you didn’t, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting to do it.”

Eric slowly disentangled from his arms. “But dad- Dad. I scored the fucking final penalty-”

“Oi!”

“And all I thought about, the whole time out there…” Eric didn’t finish. He felt too ashamed already.

He scored and screamed and ran, his sight going blurry and his body buzzing, and in the crowd of English lads, all eager to hug him, to thank him, to celebrate with him, he only saw one boy. Dele. His touch burned Eric’s skin, even among all the other hands tapping him from every possible direction. 

“Dele’s one hell of a lucky boy, you know?” 

“How do you know I’m talking about Dele?” He didn’t sound convincing, even he could hear it.

Jeremy ignored him and just smiled. “He’s a good lad.”

They walked on the pitch together, side by side, Eric shirtless after giving his shirt to the small boy in the stands who had the same dreamy expression Eric knew from his own old photos. If Eric was happy just _(just, hah)_ because of their sporting achievements, one look at Dele’s beam, and he grew fonder than he knew was possible. 

Dele made Eric’s happiness push at his seams, threatening to spill uncontrollably. He was sure he would burst in flames any minute then.

And later, right before the interview, Dele stopped him and with a business-like face, took off his own sweatshirt and offered it to Eric.

“They all already want to kiss you, don’t make them faint,” he explained as a joke, but Eric’s heart skipped for real. 

He breathlessly realised just how badly he wished to kiss only one person, now and forever. The boy right in front of him.

In a haze, he stepped in front of the camera, and it took everything he had to understand questions and offer somehow coherent answers while his gaze still zoned onto Dele who made it his mission to make stupid faces and throw him off his game, as if he needed any additional tricks to distract Eric even more. 

Eric’s heart beat so hard he could feel it in every part of his body, and they all yearned for him to make this one move, to reach out and bring Dele there, to take him into his arms and in front of the whole world, kiss him with everything he had, _scream it from the rooftops_ style. His entire body burned and almost, almost moved without his permission. He was right on the edge of beautifully fucking up. How he managed to resist this overwhelming urge and somehow keep control of his treacherous body, he still wasn’t sure. The burning need was still right there, just below the surface.

“Respect is the clearest sign of love, huh?” breathless Eric asked his father, who beamed at him with pride.

“You’ll get your chance.” Jeremy laid his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Make the waiting worth it.”

Eric silently agreed with the sentiment. After the waiting, and not just now, but months and months of waiting, it was the high time to take the leap, he knew. He would make it worth it.

“Earth to Eric! Come on, national hero, we’re waiting for the story!” Patrick exclaimed and Eric blinked and came back to reality. There’s a time and place for everything.

* * *

But there was no right time, Eric had to admit after the reality harshly reminded him that life doesn't end at a few scored penalties. There was no right time when it was their friendship on stake, or even worse, the fate of their national team in the best tournament they recently had.

He watched Dele, sometimes from afar, on other occasions from a very close proximity, and while his adorable small ticks, reactions, and words continued to test Eric’s patience, now that he was set on finally making the last step, the fear of somehow messing up followed. _Respect_ said in his father’s warning voice still ringed in his mind. He obsessively worried he would overstep and somehow hurt Dele in the process. 

He couldn’t do it right before matches in case it would mess with their concentration; he couldn’t do it after the win, not willing to give Dele the impression it was just a spur of the moment reaction. Finally, he couldn’t do it after the loss, in case the sickening loss aftertaste would taint the moment they were both waiting for. 

At that point, Eric was almost sure they were on the same page; almost. Ninety percent sure. Okay, seventy percent maybe. Well, it was at least fifty-fifty. 

But there was constantly something more important on their minds.

Until they flew back to the UK. All the goodbyes and the nostalgia of the best summer of their lives coming to an end played with Eric’s ability to think rationally. He’d made his rounds at the airport and had said goodbye to all the lads by the time he found his rightful spot next to Dele, but it didn’t feel right to just ignore the most important person of them all. He let these embarrassing instincts dictate his actions, and he promptly swooped Dele into his arms.

(Maybe he also needed a bit of familiarity to keep him believing that this ending wasn’t the ending of everything. That there were more beautiful, breathtaking moments to come. Maybe. Eric wouldn’t admit it, even if there _was_ a weird desperation in his actions.)

Dele let out a surprised huff. “We’re going to yours, right?” he asked breathlessly into Eric’s neck and purposefully hit him with his cap.

Eric chuckled. “Yeah, yeah, come on.” He rested one arm on Dele’s shoulder, and together, they walked away towards the exit. 

Eric was well aware of how suddenly every step that led him away from the World Cup of his dreams didn’t feel as heavy anymore. 

They took an Uber together and asked the star-struck driver to take them to Eric’s local Tesco. Dele complained curtly about the fact that he was forced to do the shopping (“let’s just order in, Eric, you can afford one meal”), but Eric didn’t believe him even for one second, not when he watched with his own eyes how Dele turned into an overexcited child at the supermarket.

“I want these,” he exclaimed after noticing the new flavour of M&Ms. “And these. Oh, look, nice! Hey, did you see that before?” 

It seemed that he threw every unhealthy, unnecessarily sugary product into their trolley, and Eric watched it fondly, shaking his head to keep up his looks. He went on the hunt for some necessities; he needed to fill the fridge and all the shelves which he emptied before leaving for the summer. When he came back looking for Dele, the boy beamed at him from all the way down the aisle and then jumped on the trolley and drove on it to Eric. 

“That’s dinner sorted, look!” he pointed at all his findings, not at all hazed by the safety hazard.

All in all, Eric considered their trip to Tesco successful.

They walked the rest of the way to Eric’s, already munching on a couple of chocolate bars (“We’re allowed now, Eric! Live a little! We’ll burn these calories later”. Eric couldn’t be held accountable for the mental image what his mind came up with at this comment). 

The sun was slowly setting already, covering the familiar road leading to Eric’s house in the pink light. 

The summer was still there, even if they had to leave what was the main event of it behind. 

Eric breathed deeply, enjoying the smell of July evening in the air. “...so then Stones took a look at what Jesse kept inside his washbag, and there were four types of body balm. Four! He believes he’s actually a model, this lad, I’m telling you,” Dele was recounting what happened on this or that evening in Russia.

Eric was pretty sure he had already heard this story, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.

“What?” Dele asked when he noticed Eric’s absent smile.

“Nothing. We’re home.” He led them both to the gate, and then, to the doors.

The inside of his house looked exactly the same way he left it; even the spare hoodie he dropped just before he rushed out, over a month ago, was still there on the ground. He leaned down to lift it. Funny how the house hadn’t changed at all, while he came back as a changed man.

“Home sweet home,” Dele commented softly. “Bags go in the kitchen, right?” he then asked in a rush, as if to cover his sentimentality, and went in not waiting for the answer.

Eric followed him. They silently worked on unpacking everything, moving around each other seamlessly. 

“I’m thinking pasta for dinner, you’re game?”

“Your mother’s pasta? Hell, yes.” 

Eric focused on the task ahead, on the water for pasta, and then on vegetables and sauce, moving between the shelves and the kitchen. He heard Dele drop onto the kitchen chair, and then some music flew from his house system.

“Hey, where’re the dogs?” he suddenly asked.

“Wow, you’re quick. They’re with Daisy. Or with Steph? I’m not sure whose turn it is now. Anyway, I’ll go for them tomorrow.”

Dele groaned in disappointment.

“What? You missed them as much?”

“I came to make up for the lost time with them! What did you think I’m here for?”

“My delicious cooking?” Eric turned to Dele and made a show of mixing the sauce in the pan.

“Can I help?” Dele suddenly asked, up and walking to the counter the next second. “I’ll do it. Gimme. Gimme.” He reached for the spatula.

Eric hit his stretched hand. “Hey, don’t mess with the chef here! You’ll ruin it!”

Dele got even closer and looked at him from under his eyelashes, and somehow Eric could feel that whatever would slip from his mouth next would take his breath away.

“How about I ruin you?” he asked disarmingly.

He was half-teasing Eric, in the way he always had; with the right amount of cheek in it to pass it off like nothing, just meaningless banter, just unconscious chit-chat.

But Eric froze, one of his hands still holding the spatula high in the air, the sauce dripping from it to the ground.

Because in the last months, they were making an effort to slowly, slowly learn not to interpret everything as a joke, not to play with each other’s emotions any longer, and as he peered into Dele’s unusually solemn eyes, he thought, maybe, maybe it was the high time to stop. 

Eric swallowed slowly.

Dele stepped even closer to him, leaving absolutely no distance between their chests. Every second, he grew more and more serious and cautious. The change in the air was tangible.

 _I like me better when I’m with you_ was still blasting from the speakers, accompanied by the sound of boiling sauce coming from behind Eric.

But the food was long forgotten, because Eric wondered if it was possible that… that this was their moment?

They were alone and they had all the time in the world; no one and nothing to interrupt them.

Dele’s face was painted with the same reverence Eric felt in his heart. Still, he had to-

“Del?” he asked, barely in a whisper. The hand in which he didn’t hold the spatula warily travelled to Dele’s waist. “Can I-” His stare dropped unconsciously to his lips, but he quickly caught himself and refocused on Dele’s eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

It was much easier to whisper these words than he expected. The world didn’t end immediately after he allowed himself a bit of selfishness.

For a long time, measured in breaths and heartbeats, Dele uncharacteristically mysterious. The seconds stretched as Eric wished for Dele to give him anything, any tiniest piece of reaction he could latch onto and not be so frozen at the edge of the abyss. 

Eric’s heart beat heavily in his chest while his patience was tested mercilessly, but as he breathed in and out, aware of the monumental character of the moment, he knew, with no space for doubting, that he would never forget these seconds when they both just looked at each other. The quiet before the storm; the last few moments of a life _before -_ before something else came, better or worse but no longer unknown, no longer dictated by wheels of fortune. 

There were no irrational decisions behind their actions, no overwhelming flashes of emotions, nothing clouding their judgement. Hopefully, no regret. Only careful calculation and a conscious choice.

The corners of Dele’s lips slowly, slowly turned up, and then he opened his lips. “I thought you’d never ask,” he confessed, his voice breaking at the end. No joke in it at all. 

Eric leaned in, fully determined to take charge, but Dele met him halfway.

The perfect storm.

Everything in their kiss, from the moment their lips touched tenderly at first, in just a feather-like, soft peck, to the way they both leaned away to drink in each other’s expression screamed: _on purpose_. I love you on purpose, I choose _you_ on purpose. 

Eric had never felt love in a way it encompassed them as they looked tenderly at each other, and then, gave into the temptation again, leaned in with the new kind of force behind it. Their mouths crushed against each other, in a dance which was growing more and more overcoming, with every unspoken word now finally shown through actions and every unfulfilled yearning finally let loose.

In the passionate dance their whole bodies seemed to perform, neither of them remained passive; they both fell right into it, hungry for the conclusion of long years of passing each other by.

Dele’s hands rested on Eric’s head, massaging his scalp through the buzzcut, and the spatula slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a dull sound. He couldn’t care less.

Dele felt like a force of fire in his arms, burning him so well, every inch of Eric’s body buzzing just from his proximity and from the incredible power of his kiss. Eric gave back as hard in return; he pushed everything he had into this one kiss, every doubt and every certainty reflected in his determination, until there was nothing left, just Dele and Eric.

“Finally,” Dele whispered into his mouth when they were forced to take a break to catch their breaths.

“Finally,” Eric agreed, and in a newfound abandon, leaned in again. He just couldn’t get enough.

Eric’s sauce pan was a fair and only casualty of their actions.

They chose the replacement together.

* * *

_That’s the choice. I love him, with all that, because of all that. On purpose. I love him on purpose._

— Casey McQuiston, Red, White & Royal Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [INSPIRATION](https://dieretmoi.tumblr.com/post/613288292130095104/jenny-slate-two-sleeping-at-last-an-oresteia)  
> Thank you. THANK YOU.  
> I really hope the waiting was worth it. For me, this fic was a journey and a real lesson in creativity and patience. Once again, it's hard to let go of a story I loved like a proud mama, but on the other hand, I think I'm happy with the way it came out. I hope it's not an overestimation on my side.  
> I'll love you forever for any feedback.  
> See you next time! xxx  
> [tumblr](www.dieretmoi.tumblr.com)


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